


California Dreamin'

by SunlitGarden



Category: Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Pre-Canon, California, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Eventual Smut, F/M, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Interns & Internships, Jughead Jones Needs a Hug, Living Together, POV Alternating, Roommates, Season 1 vibes, Sharing a Bed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-19
Updated: 2020-04-28
Packaged: 2021-03-02 03:01:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 25,008
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23737993
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SunlitGarden/pseuds/SunlitGarden
Summary: When Jughead Jones is blown off by Archie Andrews the summer before sophomore year, he hauls his camping gear all the way to California to see his best friend and longtime crush Betty Cooper.Betty's bowled over by the grand gesture of Jughead coming all the way to California to see her during her out-of-state internship and insists he stay with her instead of slumming it on the beach.It's hot. It's sweet. It's a guaranteed happy ending.
Relationships: Betty Cooper/Jughead Jones
Comments: 227
Kudos: 405
Collections: 7th Bughead Fanfiction Awards - Nominees





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Smudge](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Smudge/gifts).



> WE NEED THIS, OKAY? I've had this in my docs forever but I kept mulling over the last chapter but this is the time! I hadn't even divvied up the chapters so hopefully, this works for now. We need sunshine! We need cute Bughead!

Mute thoughts keep tugging on the back of Betty’s mind. She can’t distinguish her own from other people’s at the moment and doesn’t even care if they’re talking to her specifically. Betty’s transfixed, stunned by the vision of Jughead Jones with his camping backpack slung over his shoulder, his sweaty clothes sticking to his lean body and some sort of wistful expression on his face. Everything else seems far away and foggy.

One of the girls from her internship, Samantha, touches her back and says something Betty doesn’t quite make out. She flinches.

But then Jughead’s eyes flash with something, some kind of light of recognition, his lips twitching into a smirk. “Betts. Aren’t you a sight for sore eyes?”

The world unfreezes. Betty rushes forward to throw her arms around her friend’s neck, the backs of her legs stretching at the reach. His whole body relaxes and melts into hers before his arms clamp down hard enough to lift her off the ground.

 _He came here for me,_ she thinks.

Delirious, Betty giggles, kicking her feet. Jughead pulls her tight against his damp body, kissing her brow. It’s a foreign, slightly breathtaking sensation. “I missed you.”

“I missed you, too,” she breathes, lungs squished by his grip. He’s gotten stronger and skinnier and her ear somehow seems level with his heart. “Did you get taller?”

“Maybe.” An exhaled not-quite-laugh puffs on her face as he sets her back on the ground, their hands lingering as she gets a better look at how the summer’s been treating him.

“You look different–good, different.”

“Thanks,” he comments dryly. “Probably a little sweatier than I’d have liked, but—”

“Stop,” she chides, gently pushing on his chest. “I’m just so happy to see you! Surprised, though, you big jerk. Why didn’t you tell me you were coming?” Jughead fumbles over a laugh and her racing heart finally starts to connect to her brain. “Isn’t this weekend supposed to be your big trip with Archie?”

Gaze darting to the side, Jughead straightens his spine to adjust his monstrous backpack. “Yeah, well, I figured I’d rather spend the long weekend with the friend I haven’t seen in two months than with the guy I spent all summer breaking rocks with.”

“Really?”

 _He wants to be with me? Over Archie?_ She wonders.

“Yeah.” He swallows, suddenly seeming shy. “Really.”

That puts a new spin on things. “Well, you still should have told me. I could’ve met you at the station! You’re lucky you found us.” Her fingers trail down his arm like she’s mapping his new muscles, testing them. Maybe she’s gotten bolder in this heat.

“Us?” He frowns, trying to concentrate.

“Oh! Shoot.” She grabs his wrist, turning around to face the raised eyebrows of her group. “Um, those are…my coworkers. Interns. The coffee runners and copywriters of the industry,” she explains, almost an apology - a joke at her own expense.

“Sounds like a dream.”

They stare at each other, something lapping just underneath their smiles.

~~~

“I’ve missed your sarcasm.” She says it so easily that he almost believes it. Her ponytail touches her shoulder, her smile stretching his insides like taffy. Her short fingernails trace the inside of his palm and he finds himself linking their hands together, grounded, absolutely fucking gone and glad to be somewhere that wants him.

“Who’s the guy?” a girl with frizzy dark hair asks loudly.

Rolling her eyes, Betty drags him towards the group of lollygaggers blatantly staring and gossiping. “Guys, this is Jughead, one of my best friends from back home!”

The assorted young adults glance at their joined hands, which makes Jughead cling to her even harder despite the heat. They look older than Betty. Upperclassmen, or even college-aged kids. They scan him with varying levels of interest and disdain. He doesn’t bother smiling for them, just nods his head in acknowledgment.

“Hey, I’m Brad,” one guy with sandy, windswept California-bleached hair offers, stepping forward to push out his hand.

Jughead doesn’t feel particularly inclined to shake it, nor to let go of Betty. The guy _looks_ like a Brad. Or a Chad. Tad. Basically the dudebro of an 80’s movie without the shoulder pads and feathery hair.

Betty, sensing the disturbance in the force that always seems to accompany Jughead’s presence, tightens her grip on his hand and waves to the other people with it.

“Jughead, this is everyone. Sam, Molly, Terrance, and you’ve already met Brad. We were just about to go for appetizers after work. Would you like to join us?”

His heart pounds harder at the hopeful lilt to her voice and his clothes cling to his flesh like a sinkhole of sweat. “I wouldn’t want to intrude. Plus I’m kind of gross from carrying everything I own on my back, so—”

That’s not enough of a reason for Betty, who waves it away. “You can drop it at my place. Where are you staying?”

Floundering, his mouth opens. Maybe there’s quicksand under their feet that will swallow him whole before he can embarrass himself not only in front of Betty but all of her friends.

“Oh! Sorry,” Betty starts, shaking her head incredulously like she’s forgotten her manners. “Obviously, with me. Come on, I’ll show you to my place.”

Brad squints like he’s seen too much sun. “Um, are you gonna meet up with us tonight, or…?”

“Yeah, I’m just gonna get Jughead set up and then we’ll be there.”

“Text me!” A girl with dark, wavy hair calls as Jughead tries to figure a way out of crashing happy hour.

Waving them off, Betty leads Jughead towards her apartment. “Sorry, it’s been the first summer in forever that I haven’t had my mom breathing down my neck. I didn’t even realize I could have a boy in my room.”

“Scandalous,” he drones, taking everything in with a discerning gaze, mapping out potential places to camp or work. “You know, you don’t have to take me in. I could just drop my stuff off and sleep on the beach. I hear that’s a popular pastime here.”

“Juggie, no! Are you crazy? What about your laptop? You don’t want that covered in sand or stolen in the night. Plus, I’ll be damned if I let one of my best friends sleep on the beach when I have a perfectly comfortable…twin bed and box spring we can lay on the floor.”

He laughs, the sound propelling them with the same jerky momentum as launching forward on a skateboard. He knew being with Betty would make things better. Her presence always makes things better.

—

“Nice digs,” he comments, scanning the five by ten space she’s been graced with for the summer. It’s actually smaller than the projection booth at the Twilight, but somehow they managed to squeeze a little dresser and desk in there along with the tiniest excuse for a kitchenette he’s ever seen. Everything rattles when his backpack lands on the floor. “Ah, that feels good.” He rolls his shoulders, fully aware of how clingy and dark his shirt is because of the hike from the bus station to her publishing house.

Betty, ever-polite, starts making her bed so he has a smooth place to sit. “Would you like something to eat?”

“Always.” He chuckles, his empty stomach groaning. Even though they’re supposedly going out for “appetizers” after this, he knows that’s pretty much code for happy hour. “I’m just gonna shower first if that’s okay.”

“Of course!” Betty hurries about scrounging for a spare towel and her stash of fruit and salty snacks. The only thing she can find that’s clean is her beach towel.

“Honestly, Betty, it’s fine. I might have a towel packed somewhere in this monstrosity and at this point, even handfuls of dry cereal would be a feast.”

“What? Cereal is not a feast. Especially not for you.” Nose wrinkling, Betty studies him. She’s always been smart and he wonders if he’s said too much.

“I mean compared to the freeze-dried meals Archie and I were gonna eat…” He trails off in the hopes she doesn’t remember that he used to love those awful cans of soup he and Archie would practically chug, then use the empty ones to build pyramids or “shooting” ranges. Maybe Archie didn’t tell her. Jughead certainly didn’t.

Her mouth twists like she can’t decide what to do with his admission. Tightening her ponytail, she surveys the room. “Okay, well, you can use my towel if you don’t want to fully unpack yet. I can get the food set up in the meantime.” Gnawing on her lip, she swoops her gaze over him. “You don’t want to go get appetizers tonight, I’m guessing?”

“I’d rather not,” he admits, trying not to imagine his sweat swirling in panic on his skin, baking in the sun. “But I realize that I just kind of _showed up_ here, so if you want to go with your friends—”

“No, Juggie,” she interrupts, making his pulse jump as her thumb circles the vulnerable skin on the inside of his wrist. “I want to spend tonight with you.”

Everything feels tight and throbbing and he struggles to keep his expression neutral. “Great. Um…shower?”

She smiles brightly and gestures to the obvious bathroom door.

He squeezes her wrist before disappearing into the bathroom and locking the door, a violent burst of water sputtering from her shower-head.

 _Keep it together_ , he warns himself, tossing his beanie on her bathroom counter. As he looks in the mirror, he notes how shiny his skin is. The husks under his eyes might as well have bruises. It’s not like it’s easy to get REM sleep on a moving vehicle and sweating under the beanie has certainly done nothing for his greasy dark hair.

“Fuck,” he mumbles, trying to push it back into something that resembles a style.

 _It’s not like it matters_ , he thinks, hands dropping to his side, looking at the soaked, pathetic person in front of him. But he still kind of cares. He strips off his clothes and takes one last look at his naked body, wondering if it’s something he would ever show to Betty. If he’ll ever have the guts to do it. Just tell her. Get a spectacular rejection or wide-eyed wonder.

Sighing, he steps under the shower spray and hopes it blasts away the crazy urges in his head.

—

Maybe tomorrow she can go grocery shopping because she’s pretty sure the meager tub of ice cream and peanut-butter-banana sandwiches aren't going to sustain Jughead for long.

He looks tired. Thin. _Cute_.

Her brain is absolutely betraying her in this heat. Hurrying about, Betty splashes some water on her neck from the tiny kitchenette sink and goes about trying to make room for his things. He should have a dresser drawer.

The temptation to draw open the tightly knotted strings of his backpack is almost a physical feeling. She wants to poke through his things for clues and put them away in tidy piles so he can feel at home, even though she knows his shirts will end up tossed into a pile on her chair like they belong there.

She almost _wants_ them to belong there, unpack everything so he can’t disappear like everyone else has.

Taking a deep breath, Betty texts Samantha. “Hey, Juggie’s–” She deletes a few letters so no one else thinks of him as _Juggie_. “Jug’s feeling tired after the long trip up. I think we’re gonna stay in tonight. Enjoy the appetizers for me!” She adds a smiley face to soften ditching them and throws her phone on the bed.

Part of her is mortified he’s going to be sleeping on the cheap sheets she hasn’t washed since she got here. Although he might have a sleeping bag, she couldn’t possibly leave him on the floor. In a weird way, she’s kind of excited for a sleepover. He and Archie used to have them all the time but once she’d reached a certain age her mom didn’t let her stay with them overnight. They’d occasionally remember to morse code to her through the window, but more often they’d offer apologetic smiles and go back to fisting their sweet and salty snacks while she returned to her parents who were tapping their feet and watching her brush her teeth.

This time she can do what she wants.

As she’s debating between pizza and popcorn, her phone lights up and plays her favorite song. On instinct, she swipes to answer it, only half-registering that it’s Brad. “Hello?”

“What’s this I hear about you not coming out tonight?”

The hairs on the back of her neck go static and Betty whips her head in the direction of the bathroom to try and remember how easy it is to hear through these walls. “Yeah, we’re just not feeling like it tonight.”

“Come on, what’s wrong with this guy? We all want to meet him.”

“You _did_ meet him.”

“ _Really_ meet him! I want to grill the guy about when you were in pigtails and find out if you were even cuter with ribbons in your curls.”

Kind of weirded out, Betty frowns and steps over Jughead’s boots, gently shaking them out by the door. “No. You guys have fun. I’ll text you if anything changes.” She can hear him inhale to say something else and quickly cuts him off with a cheery yet forceful, “Bye!”

Exhaling in frustration, Betty silences her phone and tosses it to the mattress. She’s not sure how Polly handles being _on_ all the time for people. Maybe that’s why she’s gone quiet for now. Being relatively popular can feel like people are leeching for energy, for stories, for prestige. Betty likes being appreciated for her accomplishments, but she hates being nagged about taking time for herself. Any time she turns down drinks or burgers they hassle her about wasting these opportunities.

She’s not _wasting_ anything.

Unbuttoning her shirt, Betty tries to fan her clothes to create a breeze. She almost jumps out of her skin when Jughead emerges half-naked from the bathroom.

Jughead scratches the back of his head. “Sorry. Um, lack of foresight, I forgot to bring in fresh clothes to compensate for the sweaty ones. You mind?”

“N-no.” Her heart is thundering in her chest. They haven’t been swimming at the river together in a while and Jughead’s _really_ filled out since then. Her whole face feels like one of those reusable heat-packs in the microwave.

Has his hair always been quite so gorgeous? Even his slanted smile at her appraisal feels more endearing than the typical friendly affection they share with one another.

“Could you…” Jughead’s gaze shifts shyly from her to about four feet to her left.

“Oh! Move! Right.”

She’s a complete and total idiot, objectifying one of her best friends when he comes out to surprise her. Shirtless.

Squeezing her eyes shut, Betty slides up against the wall, boxing herself in as he comes forward to get into his bag. Of course, not being able to see what he’s doing just triggers her vivid imagination to follow the way water drips down his inky locks and down the grooves of his shoulders and chest.

When she hears the bag open, Betty glances over.

Jughead’s kneeling in front of his pack, digging past a few notebooks and books before getting to his clothes. As things shift, she notes the flint and dehydrated meal packets crinkling amidst what she thinks are giant candy packs he’d probably snagged from the Twilight Drive-in.

“Trying to catch a peek?” Jughead clears his throat, eyes on his bag.

As she begins to apologize for her investigative habits, Betty realizes he might mean... _him_. The towel divides right along his thigh when he kneels. She didn’t even notice at first. Now that she has, of course, she distracts herself as quickly as possible. “Why did you bring the camping stuff here?”

Brow furrowing, Jughead tightens the bag closed with a whirring noise. “Figured I might be roughing it on the beach if you didn’t have room. Might as well be prepared.”

“But you could have…” She blinks, shaking her head. That isn’t important. It’s not fair to grill him when he’s just been on a long journey to get to her and is still half-naked in her room. “I’m glad you’re here.”

“Thanks.” The crook of his smile and affection in his gaze makes her lungs feel squeezed like in their hug again. “I’m glad, too.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Y'all are great! I might be slow to respond to comments for a while but please be sure I treasure every single one and it keeps me motivated to keep churning out the fluffy feels. There's a minor Great Gatsby reference here but you should be fine without having read it :)

Everyone must be used to the stifling heat in LA because Jughead is far from the only person wearing jeans. Maybe he’s the only one in suspenders, but he’s used to that.

What he’s not used to is walking beside Betty without anyone else in town within gossip distance. Although she still seems skittish after seeing him half-naked, her shocked Pikachu expression and the way she’d appreciated him afterward made his insides feel like soft-serve ice cream. Which, if she’s telling him the truth, is coming shortly forthwith.

“Does Pinkberry have milkshakes as good as Pop’s?”

“Nobody has milkshakes as good as Pop’s,” she reasons, ponytail swaying matter-of-factly.

“Good to see LA hasn’t changed you. If I’d come out to find you were brainwashed into being vegan I’d probably have to kidnap you and do exposure therapy: burgers and milkshakes until you popped back to your senses.”

She giggles, his heart lighting up like a bonfire. He’s so stupidly in love with her it almost makes him want to burst his own bubble out of self-preservation.

“So. _Brad_. Is he as douchey as his name suggests?”

Brow furrowing, she does a quick once-over of his face as if to check if he’s joking. Although he’s half-smiling, the sardonic humor is a pretty little shell over his anxiety and she probably knows it. She’s always been smart.

“I don’t know. He’s not exactly pointing finger-guns and giving noogies as an intern. Although he did want to dress up as Rocky instead of his name-sake for Rocky Horror night.”

Snorting, Jughead moves so he makes Betty a little shade while they wait for the crosswalk to turn. “Golden speedos? And let me guess, he wanted you to be Janet?”

Mouth twitching, Betty nods. “Everyone said I’d be _perfect_ for it.” The word sounds like a curse with her inflection.

“Did you end up going?” He tries not to picture Betty in a bra and tiny slip, but somehow that seems to make more sense than the alternative button-up conservative dress.

“Yep. As Columbia.”

“You little rebel,” he teases.

“I had to rely on borrowing some glitter eyeshadow from a fellow intern. It’s not like I have a lot of clothes down here to play dress-up in, but it was fun to try.”

“Was Brad disappointed?”

She rolls her eyes. His stupid self is elated at what’s probably a big nothing, just reflex. “It was fine. We all went as a group.”

“Not as dates, then?”

She looks at him, aghast, nearly halting the flow of traffic on the sidewalk. “No! We work together and I really don’t think of him like that.”

He’s probably smiling way too much when they cross the street, his hand sort-of accidentally skimming the back of her knuckles. When it happens again, Betty looks up at him. It’s almost too much, so he pretends to look down the street on the far side of them.

Her hand winds into his and he’s anchored. There’s barely enough time to look down at their joined hands, wondering why they fit together so easily before she’s tugging him closer. “Come on, Juggie. You’re delirious from this heat. Or hunger.” Her green eyes flash with teasing and his heart thumps so rapidly he feels like it wants to break out and chase after her. “I’ll get you some ice cream and take you to one of my favorite spots in the city. It actually kind of reminds me of Riverdale,” she admits.

“Where is it?” He can’t imagine this big city that practically radiates heat has much in common with their tiny little town with its eternal misty fog.

“Well,” she muses, strolling in a way that could almost be described as skipping. “It’s not the Hollywood sign. The rest of it will remain a mystery.”

“For now,” he amends, squeezing her hand.

“For now,” she agrees.

He doesn’t even remember anything about ice cream until they’re hit with air conditioning and she has to remove her hand from his to approach a whirring, freezing machine.

Hunger is a distant thought, as is Riverdale, when Betty looks over her sunkissed shoulder at him, asking, “What do you want?”

 _You_ , he wants to answer. _I could be happy if I just had you._

—

Betty wonders if she should tell him how lonely it’s been since Polly’s letters and texts tapered off a few weeks ago along with everyone else’s. Or that she’s stopped taking her medication because she’s sick of doing what her mother says, but now she’s so tired that she has to have four cups of caffeine to even function. Or maybe she could even tell him how she’s so happy and confused that he’s here.

 _Why did he come?_ she wonders, lifting the veil of fog from her mind as she watches him take in the glowing cityscape.

His body looks like it’s part of the angles on the triangular stakes of the swing. Judgment and shadows cloud his face.

“Sure is livelier than _The Town With Pep,_ huh?” There’s no humor in his tone, even if his lip twitches like there should be.

“In some ways.” The lethargy practically leaks out of her voice. Malfunctioning Betty. Twisting her face away, Betty sits up straighter as if this time she might actually swing into momentum.

He can tell, though. He can always tell.

The ink spill of his shadow creeps over her feet, her thighs. “Are the lights all some facade? _It eluded us then,”_ he intones in a low, slightly Twilight-zone narration, grasping the chains on either side of her, _“but that's no matter—to-morrow we will run faster, stretch out our arms farther. . ._?”

“ _And one fine morning…_ ” She knows the passage by heart. _The Great Gatsby_. The heartbreaking loneliness and hope she’s supposed to feel, wistful for what could have been. What has been. What might be again.

He pauses, pulling gently on the swing chains, pushing just enough so they bow, her knees folding in between his. As he lets go, she looks up, the swing effect drawing her in like a wave to his sea-blue eyes.

“ _So we beat on, boats against the current, borne back ceaselessly into the past_.”

Her heart feels like it’s still rocking towards and away from him in some attempt at equilibrium. At any moment the world could flip upside down and take impossibilities with it. Her hair would float towards the sky and her face would tilt towards Jughead, who’d wish her a Merry Unbirthday and ask her for cake, his eyes slanted with just enough censure that she’d worry something was on her face. Maybe he’d defy gravity and lean up and...

Heels grinding in the dirt, she stops.

“Why are you here?” she asks, surprised she managed to say it out loud when he’s still so ethereal in front of her. But he’s still her Jughead. He smells a little like rainwater, grass, coffee, and now, her soap. “Am I…a Daisy?”

His laugh is so soft, a gentle mist in the night as his hands resume their curl around the chain links just above her head. “No, you’re not.”

It shouldn’t be so quiet on the edge of a city, but it is. Jughead must be able to hear the wetness of her tongue as she dabs it across her lips, his gaze darting down to her mouth.

 _Why isn’t he saying anything?_ She wonders.

Her knees give a little, brushing against his. She feels like a girl in some novel, suspended in animation, looking up at a boy with blue eyes and dark, wavy hair.

 _It’s Jughead,_ she reminds herself, trying to release the swelling tension in her lungs. _He doesn’t look at you that way. You’ve never looked at him that way. Right?_

And yet at this angle, he’s all she can see. His arms frame her peripheral, the muted stars in the gap between his shoulders and his head, his features distorted in soft inky strokes like the lead of a romance manga she’d snuck out of the library. The distance between them keeps shrinking, but she doesn’t want it to disappear yet. Not before he tells her why he’s really here.

Swallowing hard, she tries to maintain eye contact, her voice just the tiniest bit shaky. “What happened back in Riverdale?”

Whatever spell kept him inching closer to her face is broken, and he blinks, drawing back a few inches. “Nothing you need to worry about.”

“What does that mean?” As he pushes the chain away, she drags herself closer. “I want to know what’s happening. Just because I’ve been gone this summer doesn’t mean I don’t care about you. Or Riverdale. I mean, I’ve sent you updates. Why haven’t you sent me any?”

“Riverdale’s…not the place you left it,” he says, gaze darting off to the side.

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

His chin twists like he’s biting his lip from the inside.

She’s so sick of the silence, the cold chasm between her and her friends and family. All she did was leave for one summer at the behest of her parents and now they’re all going to pretend to put a pause on their relationships with her? As if because she’s not there, she doesn’t matter? Or they don’t matter? It’s isolating. It’s painful. It _hurts_.

Abruptly standing, she lets go of the chain, still bracketed between his arms. “Is it Polly?” Eyes wide, his breathing picks up, gaze darting around her face. But his panic only fuels her investigation. “Jug, what’s happening to everyone? I feel like they’re disappearing. Like you were disappearing. And now you’re here and you won’t tell me why and Riverdale’s in trouble? Are you in trouble, Juggie? Tell me,” she says, halfway between a plea and a demand, her hands flying up to either side of his face so he can’t look away. “Tell me.”

His mouth opens, floundering. “I…I’m fine, I just—”

“Please don’t lie to me.” Her thumbs trace his cheekbones, so much more pronounced than when she last saw them. She can’t even remember the last time she _felt_ them. “Why are you here?”

“I need you.”

It feels like a shove from the inside of her chest, and she glances at his mouth to make sure that’s what he said. “What?”

“I needed you, Betty Cooper. You just...you make everything better.”

And then all resolve crumples, hips leading their bodies closer together until her eyes close on instinct, face tilting up to receive and give a kiss, this soul-rending kiss.

 _I missed you,_ it whispers, his hands loosening on the chains to come around the small of her back, hold the edge of her elbow while she keeps cradling his face. _I missed you so much._

After a few quiet kisses, tender caresses, their lips part but their faces don’t. His nose rubs along hers, foreheads pressed together.

 _I just kissed Jughead Jones_ , she chants to herself, lips still feeling plush and velvet.

She leans her face up just to see what will happen, hoping– and _yes_ , his hand comes up to cup her jaw, their lips opening just to close over each other’s. It’s so soft. So tender and sweet.

He came here for _her_.

A full-body shiver takes her. “Do you mean it?” she asks, wanting to thud her body against him, pull him onto the swing and straddle him or chain herself up and be his. There’s this violence of emotion swelling in her and she’s not sure she can suppress it.

“I need you, Betty,” he says softly, his fingers so gently on her face that she feels like she could absolutely melt.

“Jughead…”

She trails off into kisses and hugs, not sure how to stop.

~~~

They’re still holding hands when they get back to her room. Betty tentatively places her keys on her tiny desk. He can see the way she’s puzzling out the sleeping arrangements in her head. In fact, he bets if her hand wasn't occupied with his, she’d be tightening her ponytail over it.

“Trust me, your floor is probably more comfortable than the ground which is what I was planning on staying on.”

“I can’t let you sleep on the floor. What if we move the box spring?” Her pleading eyes make his heartbeat way too fast to trust anything else.

“Nope. Floor. I insist. You’ve already...this is already more than I was expecting,” he admits, kissing her forehead and hurriedly unpacking his sleeping bag so she won’t see the way his whole body is illuminating from this evening. Her presence carries its own quiet magic.

“Okay.” She frowns, clearly not convinced. “I’m going to change in the bathroom. You can use my toothbrush if you need to. Make yourself comfortable.”

“Sure.” He smiles at her, watching the careful way she hovers over her pajamas, torn between cute and comfy. Part of him wants to assure her she’s gorgeous no matter what she’s wearing, but that may be laying it on thick for their first date.

 _Date_.

Today was a date. A date with Betty Cooper.

Maybe he should be thanking Archie for being such a dick.

Then again, Jughead did just kiss the girl Archie’s probably supposed to end up with. But it felt right to be with Betty–and he wasn't lying about needing her. He does. Part of him knows he always will.

He sighs, shirking off his jeans and suspenders and slipping into his pajama bottoms. Even if he and Archie aren’t exactly following a great bro code right now, he does still want to come clean to Betty, make sure she knows he’s not intending to just stay for a weekend.

Maybe they can figure out where to go together.

That’s probably a pipe dream. But so was kissing her. So was holding her hand.

“You okay?”

She’s an angel in an oversized t-shirt and sleep shorts, hair greasy and soft-looking from running around all day.

“Yeah.”

“Is it the floor? Because you can stay in the bed.”

The offer hits him like a beach ball spiked on his nose. “N-no. I’m fine.”

Unconvinced, she crawls onto the mattress. “Are you sure?”

“Yeah. Super comfy.” He edges himself down into his sleeping bag. His tailbone is already protesting, but he manages to raise his eyebrows and smile up at Betty to reassure her. “See? Snug as a Jug...head.”

“Your puns.” She shakes her head fondly at him. “You should really come up here. I can sleep on the floor.”

“Absolutely not.”

“We could…” She trails off, absently stroking the sheets and looking down at their patterns. “Share? I know that might be tight, or kind of weird, but it’d probably be better than ground guilt for either of us.”

Something akin to a giant ball of want sticks to his throat. “It’s okay. I was born for the floor.”

“Sure, Jug.” She reaches over to shut off the lights and flops onto her side.

He’s an idiot. He stares unblinkingly at the ceiling, counting all the vertebrae that are going to mock him for his stupidity at turning down her offer. Why couldn’t he? Because he’s scared? Because he wants to come clean?

After a few beats, Betty peeks over the bed to check on him again. “Are you suuuuure?”

“Oh my god,” he relents, slamming his hand on the terrible cheap hardwood. “Fine. It’s horrible. I’m coming up.”

Grinning, she rolls back over into the corner and giggles when his knees make the mattress dip.

“This mattress isn’t much softer than the floor,” he grumbles, trying and failing not to entangle their legs.

“I just threw a mattress pad on top of whatever they had for the rental.” Betty lifts her head so he can slot his arm under it, and they just sort of fit together.

“Is this okay?”

“Yeah. Are you comfortable?”

“Yeah.”

Everything feels warm and good in a way he hasn’t experienced for a _really_ long time.

She bites her lip, her teeth drawing his attention to her mouth. “I can feel your heart beating.”

 _What else can you feel?_ How _else do you feel?_ He wants to ask. Instead, he tries to be somewhat light-hearted. “I’m excited. A little terrified, but excited.”

She laughs at the awkwardness and hyper-awareness of everything they’re both probably feeling. “Terrified? I’m just excited.”

“You are?”

“Yeah,” she admits quietly. At the tilt of her head, he feels the bait lingering in front of him. He really should stop this swelling need from burying them.

He wants to love her without holding back anymore. After seeing him show up for her, she seems to want more of _that_ , more actions that show her how he feels. He’s never been one to deny the golden girl anything in her life and he’s not about to start now.

The wetness of his tooth skims her lip before she receives his intended kiss. Making out is better than he imagined. It’s mostly soft, learning kisses, still, but he enjoys the hint of tongue on both of their parts. Breaking their kisses with a smile, he nudges her face.

“If we keep this up, we won’t get any sleep.”

“Do you have work in the morning?” she teases.

“No, but do you?”

As they stretch, she ends up pressed closer against him. “Nope. You’ll have me all to yourself.”

“Finally.”

He feels her giggle against his lips as he dives in again.

There’s no Archie across the way to make this weird. No Alice about to break down the door and drag him out by his ankles. Just him and Betty.

~~~

She wakes up with his arm around her waist. Her shirt’s still on, although heat shoots through her when she remembers how they explored last night, the way his fingers felt on her bare skin. She was ticklish and brimming with lava until she was satisfied and sleeping.

Jughead Jones is a wonderful kisser, a great friend, and he’s _hers_. Maybe. She wiggles until she’s facing him and watches the way his peaceful, sleepy expression twists as he absently tugs her closer again.

He's probably hers, then.

It makes her giddy, almost stupidly so, considering she didn’t even realize he wanted, liked, or _needed_ her until he showed up out of the blue. A grand gesture was a smart step in this direction, but Jughead’s always been clever.

“Why are you staring at me?” he grumbles, snuggling closer. “We’re trying to sleep.”

She giggles, cupping his cheek in one hand. “Keep sleeping, Jug. I know you have to catch up on it since you had such a long ride yesterday.”

Groaning, he nods, basically rolling her in like a teddy bear.

“Let me just get my phone.” With a quick stretch, she’s able to grab her cell and lean back. It’s so cozy against him.

She frowns at some texts from Brad. _Missed you tonight! We still on for fireworks at the beach?_

_I’ll see what Jug wants to do. TTYL._

She figures it’s a neutral response that basically indicates: _Go on without me. My plans have changed._

She’s not sure what she _is_ going to do with Jughead. She’ll have to go back to the publishing house on Monday and she hopes he won’t be heading home by then. This feels like the start of something wonderful. She wants to linger in it with him for a while, figure out how to fit and keep him in her life even if she’s living in California for the rest of the summer. Maybe he can write in the coffee shop near her building? Or she can set him up here if he wants somewhere more private. Would Jughead want to go to the beach? Hiking?

A million thoughts run through her head and don’t stop until he presses his lips to her forehead.

“Morning, Betts.”

“Morning, Juggie.”

Her toes curl with glee. She could get used to this.

They kiss and nuzzle and explore all sorts of new domestic intimacy before finally rolling out of bed to take turns showering. She lets the warm water splatter along her body, sudsing herself up in bubbles efficiently to wash with a pomegranate-scented mist.

When she steps out, dripping, her hand hovers over the one towel hanging on her door. “Jug?” She pops the bathroom door open, letting some of the steam escape.

“Yeah?”

“Um, do you have a towel with you? Because there’s only–”

“Yeah,” he chuckles affectionately. “I’ve got one, Betts.” She breathes a sigh of relief and wonders once again how she went so long without realizing how attractive he is.

There’s no way she can see anything past the mist on the mirror, but she feels like she’s luminous, like he’s lit something within her. It’s good.

When she steps out, towel wrapped around her torso, clean underwear on underneath, Jughead goes sort of doe-eyed from his spot by her coffee maker.

“You okay?” she teases. He just looks at her legs and back up at her face. “I’ll take that as a yes?”

“I might have to take a long shower,” he mutters and she laughs, not sure if he meant to actually say it. “Sorry. Early morning brain. Not enough coffee yet.” He clears his throat, shaking his head like he’s still stuck in a dream.

“Maybe we can get groceries after you wash up?” He nods, wild, messy bedhead hair sticking up defiantly. She tries and fails to hide her grin. “Great. I’ll just…” She gestures to the dresser, awkwardly trying to slip into her skirt under her towel. This time it’s him who fails to hide his smirk, turning away to give her privacy. It feels kind of weird to take her towel off in front of him, but he stays facing the wall until she’s done getting dressed. “All clear,” she announces, running her fingers through her hair.

To her pleasant surprise, Jughead turns and offers her coffee right from his mug. Jughead almost never shares beverages, not unless he was finishing off hers. Maybe there have been signs that he liked her prior to him showing up with his backpack and she’s just missed all of them. It’s a shame, really, although she can’t say she regrets a single minute of how things are progressing between them. She takes a sip. His eyes darken even more than the coffee grounds. He squeezes her hip in affection before leaning back against the minimal counter space.

As she touches her lip to make sure none of the coffee drips down her chin, Betty tries to read his sleepy expression under his long lashes. The bags under his eyes are a little softer today. She kind of wants to trace them under her fingertips. “Can I ask you something?”

“Sure.” His voice is still gravelly with sleep and she loves it.

“Did you–and you don’t have to answer if it’s weird, but did you, I mean…” Biting her lip, she looks away and tugs on her shirt. Maybe she shouldn’t ask about his feelings yet, especially knowing how cagey Jughead can be about that kind of thing. “Can you stay?”

His eyes widen and she’s grateful that he hadn’t recently taken a sip of coffee or he might’ve spit it right out onto her. Apparently, she’s just going from one jarring question to another.

“I know you and Archie usually only go camping for a few days, but I was thinking that maybe you wanted to stay longer? I mean, one holiday weekend is hardly enough to see all of LA,” she babbles, wringing her hands together and channeling her most hopeful expression. “Plus, we can reconnect. It’s been a long summer without you, Jug, so maybe if everyone can spare you a little longer…?”

“I’m all yours.”

She blinks, stunned by the finality of his tone. Jughead sets the coffee mug down, cups the back of her head, and slams into her for a kiss. Her lips seem to suction to his, even as he pulls away.

“As long as you’ll have me," he promises.

She grins, butterflies erupting in her stomach, and leans up to kiss him again.


	3. Chapter 3

Betty’s practically bouncing through the grocery aisles. If he wasn’t still so sleepy he’d probably be grinning like an idiot. She’s happy because of their new relationship, because he’s staying.

He is wanted. He is loved–or at the very least _liked_ by his best friend/longtime crush and he even has a place in her bed - at least for the foreseeable future.

Their basket is overflowing with blueberries, strawberries, bananas, even cake mix. As she’d made the shopping list, she’d said something about a flag cake. The holiday itself used to be about hot dogs and s’mores. Of course she’d make it brighter with fireworks and fruit.

His phone vibrates in his pocket.

 **Archie** : _I messed up._

He frowns.

 **Jughead** : _fuck off_

Hitting ‘send’ feels particularly satisfying, even if seeing Archie’s name pop up sends a radiating heartburn through his chest. He never thought his best friend would disregard his very existence and it still hurts enough for him to want to pretend the redhead Boy Next Door isn’t in their orbit. Sidling up next to Betty in the frozen foods section is enough to calm him down. “So if I’m here for the next...week?” he tries, enjoying the way she whips around to look at him, clearly on the verge of a pout. “Six weeks?” She laughs, delighted. “We’re going to need a steady supply of coffee and ice cream.”

“Yes, but my freezer is about the size of a shoebox.” She sighs, pressing her cheek to his shoulder as he wraps an arm around her.

“Don’t worry about me, Betts. I can forage.” He kisses the crown of her head, loving that he can just _do_ that now. He kneads into the stress spot on her neck and he feels her relax all around him.

“At least we have enough for this weekend. If you need anything during the week–”

“I know where the store is,” he assures her, somehow resisting the urge to boop her nose. “Thank you for checking, dear.”

Betty flushes prettily, grinning at the only slightly sarcastic endearment.

“So what else is on the agenda today?”

“I have another spot you’ll love,” she beams, practically on her tip-toes in excitement.

“How are you real?” When she laughs in confusion, he places a hand on her back, then makes sure he carries the brunt of their haul. “I’m not sure you can beat a swing set with a view, especially not when it’s the location of our first…”

Bless Betty for batting her eyelashes and tethering him to her side. “Our first…?” Saliva builds thick in his throat just thinking about the hazy perfection of pressing his lips to hers. “Kiss?”

“Yes.”

It’s still surreal, like a fantasy.

They sneak a quick peck in an empty aisle just to reaffirm this wonderful reality.

Betty refuses all efforts he makes to pay, insisting that he carry the groceries instead as he had in the store. He begrudgingly accepts his duty and keeps his eye on the storefronts on the way back just in case he needs a job. If he’s staying as long as he thinks he will, he’ll definitely need an income to sustain his depleted savings fund, but he’s not sure who would hire him. He’s sure someone could cover for him at the Twilight. It’s been slow, anyway.

She lets him eat as much as he wants of the batter, fruit, and frosting once the messy red, white, and blue pattern is laid out. Any other day, he’d make a jab about confectionary propaganda, but she gets this wistful expression and admits this is something she used to do with Polly and he can’t bear to really tease her about it.

“It’s cute,” he comments, bearing the brunt of her blank stare. “Just like you.” The little tweak to her ponytail is enough to earn her wry smile back. They kiss, the sweetness from the frosting and berries still staining their lips.

“If you’ve had enough sweets for one afternoon, I was thinking of taking you to my other favorite place.”

“Okay, you can bribe me into it,” he allows, knowingly being sappy when he leans in for another kiss. At least she seems to enjoy it.

California sun beats down on them, the glow he feels inside sort of waving off of the atmosphere. Even though it’s hot, they hold hands as they traverse down various streets, Betty punctuating their journey with little anecdotes. He loves learning about her summer this way. Thankfully, the city has enough going on that he can deflect any questions about Riverdale with follow-up questions about LA.

As they approach a branching staircase at the end of one street, he realizes where they’re going. “The library, Betts?” She shrugs one shoulder, completely unabashed. “You know me too well.” They make their way past people resting on benches and the stairs to get to the main entrance. It’s almost like a school when they first walk inside with its branching hallways stemming from the lobby.

“Just to warn you, it’s big.”

“I’m starting to get that,” he says, instead of the obvious joke that pops into his head. He leans every which way, lollygagging around to get a better view and take it all in. There are miniature exhibits in the halls, photographs with actual placards. When they get to the open-concept escalators, he almost feels dizzy by the sheer scale of the place. Giant hanging chandeliers that are more like art installations than light fixtures adorn what appears to be a great hall of some kind.

“Each floor is its own section. Can you imagine, Juggie? Where do you want to start?”

“Uh…” He feels inept, struck stupid by the grandness of the place. There are places to borrow tablets, laptops, an old-school card-filing system. This place is like an homage to where art and literature meet. “Nonfiction?”

“Right this way.” She practically glides in front of him, hands still linked, as she takes him to one of the many wings.

Incredulous, he starts perusing the titles, eyeing the more traditional study sections laid out on the floors along with giant tables and their colored slightly mismatched chairs that seem to exude personality. “I think I found the place I’m going to write when you’re at work.”

One of the more wonderful things about Betty is how excited she can be for other people. She’s beaming. “I’m so glad you like it, Jug.”

“Of course I do. This is…” He trails off, not sure why a library, of all places, would be the spot to wipe his memory of useful words. “Impressive. It’s great. _You’re_ great. I…” Brow furrowing, he’s overcome by how patient and thoughtful she is and how different she makes everything. Any positive, warm and fuzzy feeling of home rests within her heart, in being near her personage. _I love you_ , he wants to say, which is ridiculous, considering they’ve only been mutually romantically linked for one day, but he’s wanted to say it for years.

He can hold onto it a little longer, at least until he’s sure going out on that limb means he won’t crack and fall.

“Thank you. For everything.”

He kisses her again because he’s not sure words will ever be enough.

~~~

Thankfully, Jughead brought swim shorts with him and some form of sandals instead of his usual converse and combat boots. Betty’s actually a little excited to reintroduce him to everyone as her extended house guest and newly minted boyfriend. He’s probably less than enthused to hang out with a group of unfamiliar people, but she hopes he has a good time being on the beach.

Massaging sunblock into his shoulders serves the dual purpose of protecting him from UV rays and loosening his tension for when Sam’s car pulls up. The beep of a hello has Betty eagerly waving and smiling at the car full of her coworkers before her and Jughead bring the cake to the trunk where the cooler is packed away.

“You think it’ll last?” Jughead asks dubiously.

“I hope so! There are plenty of popsicles in there to keep it cold, right?”

He doesn’t look so convinced. She really hopes he doesn’t want to go back inside and call the whole thing off. Rubbing his forearm, Betty goes up on her toes to kiss him while the cooler lid still blocks the rearview mirror. “It’ll be fun, I promise. As long as we don’t get burned.”

He rolls his eyes, looking slightly more relaxed once given the opportunity to be sarcastic. “Reapply every two hours, I know. Maybe I can just have that lifeguard-esque white-nose the whole time. Should make an impression on your friends.”

She giggles and looks at his impressive specimen of a nose before taking his hand and scooting across the back bench to sit in the middle of him and Brad, who puts his arm up behind the seat to give her more space. Being stuck under his visibly downy armpit isn’t exactly ideal, but at least everyone is all smiles.

“Why, _hello_.” Sam peers over her sunglasses at the joined hands in Betty’s lap, raising her eyebrows in question.

Betty shrugs, biting down on her smile. “Hi. You all remember Jughead.”

“The mystery man from back home. Well, well, well. How do you like LA so far?”

Offering a tiny smirk, Jughead rubs his thumb across Betty’s knuckles. He might as well be stroking a guitar for how she thrums under him. “Nothing but sunshine and smiles, here.”

“Prepare to get cozy back there, because we still have to pick up Molly.”

“I thought she was going to bike?”

“Said it’s too hot.”

Squirming against the sticky flesh of Brad’s arm along her shoulder, Betty turns to Jughead, trying not to flush. “Just to warn you, drivers in LA are slightly…”

“Aggressive,” Terrance finishes, turning in his seat. “You’re from New York, right?” Jughead nods. “Imagine NYC taxis, except everyone’s been boiling in traffic for an hour and think merging lights are a sign of weakness.”

“Would you like to walk?” Sam offers, pulling a U-turn.

“No. I love me a roller coaster ride and some AC.”

Jughead chuckles and Betty lets out a little breath of relief.

As he flicks through images on his phone, Terrance peers in the back seat. “So how the hell are we going to fit Molly?”

“She can lay out on the back seat.”

“What about Betty?” Brad offers, and she wonders if he noticed the way Jughead tensed at the suggestion of having a stranger’s head or feet in his lap.

“I don’t mind.” Glancing at Jug, she tries to read his expression. “Is that okay?”

“You don’t need to spread across. Just sit on me.”

Sam’s teeth shine in the rearview mirror and Terrance’s eyebrows raise up like when someone gets extra sprinkles on their ice cream. Betty’s going to get so much grief over this later. Part of her can’t wait to divulge some of this excitement to someone - although she hasn’t had a spare second to do it.

The space does look a little tight between Jughead’s knees and the seat, but she figures if they can share a bed, they can share a seat.

“Don’t be silly, B. You’ll want to stretch out your legs. We’ve got you,” Brad assures her, squeezing her shoulder.

Disgust writ all over his face, Jughead eyes the hand on her shoulder like it’s a fly he wants to swat at. “B?”

“Just a nickname.” She squirms around in her seat a little to get all hands off of her. “I think the fewer people touching me in this heat, the better, so I’ll sit on Juggie, thanks.”

As Jug’s lip curls up, Brad balks. “Juggie?”

Before she can even freeze in horror, Jughead answers for her. “Just a nickname.” He winks and hoists her into his lap as if she isn’t a slippery, sweaty heat pack and they’re already at Molly’s.

“Eager, there, fella?” Sam asks wryly.

“I’m eager to see this supposed _ocean_ people keep telling me about,” he replies smoothly.

They squish around a little on the way, Betty trying not to lean back on him and increase the obscene amount of heat they’re both dealing with. Molly joining them just makes everything that much muggier but she’ll survive.

It’s like the heavens opened up for the most lovely day she could ask for. The sun is shining but a nice breeze keeps them from boiling alive.

Everyone’s normal and chatting and all the groups there for the fourth of July seem to be intermingling, so even Jughead doesn’t seem to be the odd one out.

He’s leaning back on her beach blanket, feet in the sand and squinting at the water when she decides to take a chance.

“Jug, you want to go for a swim?”

“Not yet.”

“I’ll go with you!” Brad pipes up, tossing a package of hot dogs at Jughead, who catches them with a surprisingly loud snap. “You can get started on the food so it’ll be ready by the time we get out. Betty says you have quite the appetite.”

“She would know,” Jughead replies flatly.

The tension is almost palpable. It’s not really what she was expecting for the holiday. “Here, let me help you get those started.” She fumbles through the bag for skewers.

Unaffected, Sam doesn’t so much as peek out from under her giant sunglasses or the umbrella doubling as a parasol. “Don’t forget about the s’mores later. I am not taking home three packs of jumbo marshmallows.”

“We’ll make good use of them. Right, Jug?”

“Right.” He tears the hot dog package open with his teeth.

Brad stands up, lifting his shirt off and stretching. “He’s got this. Come on, Betts, let’s get into the water.”

It’s sort of jarring to hear Jughead’s nickname for her come out of Brad’s mouth. The disapproving scowl on Jughead’s face tells her all she needs to know as far as how he’s feeling about it.

Backing out now might only make things more weird, so she gives an apologetic shrug in Jug’s direction and toes off her flip-flops. Just as she’s about to take off her sundress, she feels Jughead’s fingers join her own.

“I’ll apply your sunblock.”

“Okay.” Trying not to preen or blush, Betty rolls her ponytail to the top of her head and lets him slather some sunscreen on her neck, then knead it down into her shoulders and back. In some ways, it feels like he’s taking his sweet time. Not that she minds the little extra massage time, it’s just a little funny to be getting it in front of everybody else when she can’t show how much she _appreciates_ it.

“Are we going, Cooper?” Brad glowers.

“Yeah! Thanks, Jug.” She kisses his cheek, savoring the soft expression on his face before bounding down the beach. “Last one in has to clean the bathrooms next Friday!”

“That’s a dirty trick–and here I thought you were sweet!”

The spray of the ocean refreshes her from the tension of earlier. Brad is fine up until Jughead looks away to use the hand sanitizer from her bag.

“So, he’s your bestie from home, huh?”

“Yeah.” She rolls the water over in her hands, reaching for the boogie board floating not-so-far-away. “Actually, since coming out here, we sort of became more.”

“More?”

“We’re together.” She shrugs, feeling her cheeks burn with glee even as she tries not to make a big deal out of what feels like the best thing to happen to her. Brad has this disbelieving look on his face. “What?”

“So he just comes down and suddenly you guys are...together?” When she arches an eyebrow with a nonverbal _duh_ , he floats backward. “You never even mentioned him before.”

“Yes, I have. I just don’t talk about him all the time because we’re usually working or talking about something else.”

Frowning, he hop-floats closer. ”What’s gonna happen when the weekend is over and you go back to work?”

“He’s staying with me.”

“What, indefinitely?”

“Until he gets sick of me or once the internship ends in August.”

“You don’t think that sounds crazy? Like he isn’t just looking for a place to crash for a few weeks?”

Tightening her grip on the boogie board, Betty prepares for the next wave. “I don’t know what to tell you. Everything with Jughead’s been easy. He’s...he’s one of my best friends, and now that I know how we feel and we’re together, I’m really happy.” She looks back to shore, where Jughead’s tentatively hovering one of the hot dogs over their meager campfire. Maybe he’s able to sense her, because he turns, smiles, and holds up his phone to take what she assumes will be a very far-away picture.

Her gut sloshes happily as she’s carried away by a wave. She’s kind of in love with him. Perhaps that’s too soon. Not that it matters. It’s a fact, either way.

“I guess I’m happy for you, then,” Brad frowns, paddling out. “But if he treats you wrong–”

“He won’t.”

“Just know there’s someone else in line for you, Betts.”

Betty rolls her eyes, splashing him with her foot. “Throw that negativity out with the tide, Brad, and don’t call me Betts.”

“What, only your boyfriend can call you that?” He teases, snorting out some mucus with the saltwater she’s shoved up his nose.

“Yes,” she says decisively, kicking off for another wave.

~~~

Betty’s skin is red and glistening by the time she comes back, dropping the boogie board by the side. “Everything okay?”

“I made your hot dog just the way you like it. Cooked.”

She huffs a derisive laugh and settles in next to him while he obligingly squirts some hand sanitizer in her palms. “Need some sterilization, Chad?”

The dudebro shakes his hair out, speckling them with salt water. “Nah, thanks, and it’s Brad.”

Betty sidles up closer to Jughead and reaches for the food he set aside. “Thank you so much for the hot dog.”

“You’re welcome,” he and Brad both say at the same time. Jughead glares at _Brad_ , territorial douche nozzle of the west.

After a moment, the guy laughs. “I mean, I bought them, but I guess your boyfriend did cook ‘em. Looks like it’s my turn to give the bonfire a try.”

“By all means,” he gestures, hoping the smug asshole jumps right into it. Betty stops chewing, looking up at Jughead in a plea to play somewhat nice. Apparently, not everyone can catch his level of sarcasm and read his mind as easily as his childhood _sweetheart_. “It’ll probably feel good to warm up after the cold ocean waves,” he finishes lamely, rubbing Betty’s chilly shoulder.

“It’s so much colder when you get out,” she admits, teeth chattering. “But it was actually really nice when we were in.” Her shivers are strangely cute. He takes it upon himself to warm her up again, first with his hands, then by cuddling close to the fire.

“You an outdoorsy kinda guy, Jug-Head?” Brad asks, and this time Jughead’s not sure if he’s just making conversation or still being a douche nozzle.

“I’m more of a freshwater kinda guy. Betty and I grew up by a river, used to swim by the watering hole.”

“Nice.”

 _Nice._ What a weird thing to say. _Creep_.

Betty clears her throat, her sandy toes clenching over his. “What are you reading, Sam?”

The conversation veers, and after another application of sunscreen, Betty turns her big green eyes upon him and begs for another chance to go into the waves.

“You _just_ warmed up!”

“I know, but now I’m warm.” She nuzzles against his shoulder. “Please?”

As if he could deny her. Doesn’t mean he’s not going to enjoy wriggling in indecision as her teeth bore into her pink lips, though.

“ _Fine_.” He makes a big show of dusting off his bottom and taking off his shirt before holding Betty’s hand. No one here _really_ knows about his beanie and he’s glad he didn’t bring it to the beach with them in case _Chad_ decided to use it as charcoal fuel.

They walk along the beach together hand in hand, Betty combing the shore for pretty shells, poking them in their sandy nests. He thinks it might just be an excuse to hold hands along the beach with him, some grand romantic gesture, but he doesn’t mind, so he keeps up a running commentary on their day at the shore.

“Did Chad try to get fresh?”

Her mouth tilts to the side, a wry, annoyed expression. “A little. Enough salt water up the nose seems to have cleared the path to his brain.”

A laugh shoots out of him like a cough. “ _Nice_.”

“What do you think of LA so far?”

“Mm, I like the library. I like _you_.”

“Yes. And…?” She swings her shoulders from side to side, tempting him to a hug.

“I like _you_ ,” he repeats, kissing her nose, then watching in fascination as she follows his guiding finger at her chin to rise up for a kiss on the lips.

Who needs fireworks when he has Betty Cooper kisses?

They chase each other into the waves, Jughead tossing and splashing her only a little once he realizes how badly saltwater _stings_ and has to be spit out the moment it passes the lips.

As the sun starts to set, he clambers back ashore with her, grainy and satisfied. She trembles with chill pretty quickly, but huddling close together under their blankets and next to the fire warms her up pretty quickly.

“You two are so cute.” Sam aims her phone at them, sunglasses still on despite the darkness setting in. “I’m texting you this.”

Betty grins, embarrassed, and shuffles for the cake.

“Wait. There should be a picture of you _with_ the cake,” Jughead insists.

“Oh, no, I–”

“Yes! With sparkler candles! _Yes!_ ” Sam enthuses. “I’ll make it a video!”

All of them light a single sparkler and stick it in the cake, jokingly singing, _Happy birthday to you, happy birthday to you, happy birthday -_ and here, they devolved into _USA, UNITED STATES OF AMERICA, DECLARATION OF INDEPENDENCE_ \- _Happy birthday to you!_

Delighted and bewildered, Betty blows on the sparklers, which obviously don’t go out. They laugh, _wah wah_ , and Jughead can’t help but kiss her joyous cheek. This is the most physical affection he’s given and received in his entire life and it just keeps building. He’s so absolutely gone on this. He doesn’t want to go back to Riverdale and watch it fade away amidst everyone who wouldn’t understand why the girl next door went for the loner from the wrong side of the tracks. Here it’s just...Betty and her out-of-town boyfriend - former best friend.

As they all divvy up the cake, Jughead paces himself, laying out so once Betty’s made the rounds with her friends she can curl up on his chest.

“Did you make a wish?”

She giggles into his chest. Sparklers don’t have wishes. They didn’t go out, even if they did. Still, there’s something magical about the way the night sky breaks apart in fiery, brilliant light.

Later, when they’re showered and damp and laying in bed, she confesses that the only thing she could possibly still wish for is for her family to be good again.

“I know the feeling, Betts,” he says, kissing her forehead. Unread texts from FP, Fred, and Archie blink on his phone like mute little fireworks next to the phone charger. He turns his body towards Betty, blocking out all light in favor of his own personal one.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> BRAD! BRAD! BRAAAAAHAHAHAH yeah you all guessed it, he got shut down. Oh well! So sad! Also, I've been to that library and I was in *awe* like Belle in "Beauty and the Beast" when the books are unveiled. Hope you all are enjoying the way they're growing and glowing in their love.


	4. Chapter 4

There’s something stiff against her backside and Betty’s not so naive as to be completely surprised that sleeping together after spending a whole day half-naked at the beach would result in an erection. In fact, she’s kind of curious about it. Not that she’s entirely prepared to go to town on her longtime best friend, now _boyfriend_ , but she is...interested. Eventually. Careful so as not to displace him, Betty wriggles out of his arms, almost laughing at his sleepy attempts to keep her locked in, and grabs her cell phone to light her way to the bathroom.

Once in, she sits down on the toilet and swipes open her display only for the notifications screen to light up like crazy. She’d kept her phone off and in a Ziploc bag at the beach after texting Polly a happy selfie of herself and Jughead with the message, _I can’t wait to catch up with you! Happy 4th!_

Sam’s tagged her in the cake/sparkler video and a few other photos, even some candids of her and Juggie on the beach. She laughs, delighted, saving them all and liking them only to backpedal when she realizes that _all of her friends can see them._

Betty opens her text messages with anxiety, reading a few holiday texts from friends before an onslaught of all-caps exclamations with firework emojis from Kevin.

_“What the hell is Jughead Jones doing in LA??? Besides kissing your all-American cheek, obvi. We have a lot of catching up to do! Call me ASAP!”_

At least he seems as excited as she is. Archie, surprisingly, hasn’t said anything, not even a general response to her holiday text wishing him a happy 4th. Maybe he sent one to Jughead, knowing they’d be together. She’ll give him until tonight to respond, to tease him about edging her out as a friend now that the dynamic is changing. At the very least, she’s still his _neighbor._

There’d been a time she thought maybe Archie still had the lingering crush from their grade school days, that she should hold onto that memory of their ‘first kiss’ like it meant something to him. Maybe it did. Perhaps it was a promise to be bonded through the years, just not in the way either of them expected. It’s not like a grade-schooler recognizes a huge difference between platonic and romantic devotion. Now that she’s seen and felt something with Jughead, she knows what that is. Well, she _thinks_ she knows.

Blushing, she hurries up in the bathroom so she doesn’t leave him hanging for too long and sneaks back into bed.

“Betty,” Jughead groans, barely opening an eye as the mattress dips. He hauls her close against him, then inhales sharply, shooting his hips back when he realizes what she’s up against. “Shit. Sorry. ‘M just…”

“It’s okay,” she assures him, stroking his pretty, sleepy face and trying not to laugh at the bit of drool her thumb catches. “You can relax. I know it’s a part of you. I like you.” She presses a soft kiss to his lips to ease him down from the clear discomfort that jolted him awake.

His mouth lingers on hers, chasing it a little more than she was anticipating for so early in the morning. “You taste minty.”

“That’s because I brushed my teeth.”

“Do I taste bad?”

Her heart pounds harder. She can’t believe Jughead is asking her that. It’s kind of... _hot_...that she knows what he tastes like. “No.”

“Then, can we…?”

They finish the sentence with an embrace. His arm is still hooked right across her ribs and she feels this throbbing urge between her legs and at the tips of her breasts for _more._ Maybe that’s what he’s feeling, too. Still, it’s early, and once the initial hunger has been sated from making out, they both settle back into the pillows and one another.

She falls back into the warm comfort of sleep until a kiss at her neck and a slight rolling motion alert her that Jughead’s getting up. Her whole body tenses with the urge to pull him close to her back again, just like he did to her.

Perhaps it's better to distract herself before she gets too needy. She reaches for her phone and lights up the screen with images from last night. She picks a cute one of Jughead nestled behind her in a hug and sends it to Kevin. “ _He makes me feel fireworks, Kev._ ”

The response is almost immediate. “ _Just wait until Mama Cooper hears about this. We’ll see all_ ** _kinds_** _of fireworks._ ” Panic starts to close her throat with dread. “ _Not that I think she has access to such adorable social media stories. So how did Riverdale’s very own Holden Caulfield end up in LA? Please tell me he showed up outside your building with a boombox and Phil Collins music.”_

“ _Actually_ ,” she types with a smile as the water runs in the bathroom. “ _He brought a backpack._ ”

~~~

Betty kneads her heel into his side as he sits at the foot of the bed. “Hey, did Archie get mad you weren’t going camping with him or something?”

His body squeezes in on his gut far more violently than the question warrants. He dusts off his laptop and clicks it open, absently massaging her foot with one hand. “Doubt it. Why?”

“He didn’t respond to my text. I thought maybe he was upset with me for stealing you away,” she admits, one arm casually draped over her forehead as she chews her lip. Of course she’d blame herself rather than contemplate that Archie’s a self-absorbed dick.

“Can’t steal away what’s freely given,” he quips, pressing his thumb into the arch of her sole. The pressure point makes her eyelashes flutter and he wonders what she’ll look like if he gets to rub her anywhere else. Swallowing the sordid lump in his throat, Jughead offers her what he hopes is reassurance. “He’s probably just busy with his _muse_. He was talking about writing songs before I left.”

“Really?” Betty curls around him like a backward question mark, her knees curling up so her butt can be flush against his thighs. “That’s great! What kinds?”

“Imagine _Wonderwall_ by Oasis _,_ but without the second brother.”

“ _Oh_.” Her eyes widen adorably, green and sharp. Miraculously, her focus is on _him._ “How’s _your_ writing going?”

“Got as much as I could done on the ride up here. Figure I’ll be doing a lot more of it while you’re busy being a productive member of society.”

“Planning parties and writing copy isn’t exactly changing the world, but…” She shrugs, then sits up with a loud gasp that worries him. “I found out that Toni Morrison is our end-of-summer promotional event. _Toni. Morrison, Jug!_ ”

“That’s great!” His confusion must be melting through the gaps in his smile because Betty’s eyes go round, her palm slapping down on his thigh.

“You have to read her. Her books are _life-changing_. I even brought one from home because...oh, Jug, you would not _believe..._ the language, the characters...the _history_!”

“I think I’ve got it.” He chuckles, rubbing her calf and trying not to think of the way his veins are singing from her nails digging into his thigh. “Read Toni Morrison. Mind will be blown.”

“Seriously, borrow mine. Beloved. It’s on the desk.”

_Beloved?_

His throat tightens and swells, his grip firm on her leg. “Um...I will.” Glancing over at her mini book collection, Jughead looks for a book with _Morrison_ on it. “ _Oh_. _Beloved,”_ he clarifies, wanting to roll his eyes at his own stupidity. Of course it’s the title of the book. “Is it a romance?”

“ _No_ ,” she insists, shaking her head. “It’s about identity and slavery and–”

“Not an instruction manual on how to woo you.”

She lets out an unexpected laugh. “No, Jug. Not that I think you need it.” Her toes wriggle against his leg as she scoots up close and looks up at him from under her pretty, long eyelashes. “Although telling me what you think about my favorite books certainly makes this easier.”

She gives him a kiss, something short and sweet that makes his heart flutter in excitement.

“Any other tips?”

“Mm…” She pretends to consider it. “Be yourself, keep caring, generally support me, share things, and...that should do it.” Warmth floods his veins at the idea that she just wants him _around,_ let alone _likes_ him this way _._ “Seriously, help yourself to any of my books, Juggie. Then when I get off of work...we can try to find some cheap comedy shows or landmarks or even restaurants if you get hungry. What else do you need?”

“You don’t need to entertain me, Betts.” He smiles affectionately. “If I’m really staying for the next few weeks, I’m going to have to find a way to keep myself busy. Get a job. Can’t have Chad commenting on your slacker boyfriend.” Wiggling his fingers against her feet makes her squirm and scoot back.

“Juggie, stop!”

“Stop what?” He’s _gleeful_ about their easy flirtation.

She bites her lip, still feeling flushed and excited. “I just want to make sure you’re taken care of. I want you to have a good time.”

His gaze hovers on her lips, voice thick and careful. “You want to make sure I stay?” Heart pounding in his chest, he wonders if he shouldn't be so blunt or if he should guard himself more because he's received so much already.

Her palm rests over his thigh, gaze dipping away. “You might get bored.”

“Betty,” he chides gently, shocked that someone so wonderful could see herself as anything but amazing.

“I’m just saying…”

He takes her hand and kisses her knuckles. A rubber ball the size of his fist bounces around in his chest, gaining momentum. “You inspire me.” Her head falls forward, hair brushing her cheek like a gauzy curtain and he can't help but brush it back to urge her to meet his gaze. “I came here because I needed you, but I’m staying because you _want_ me to, and that makes me want to, too.” Only slightly teasing, he tests his luck by trailing his fingers down her back and lowers his voice to an octave he hopes is suggestive. “You do _want_ me, Betty, don’t you?”

“Yeah.” Her eyes are dark, her breath hitched, and it makes him feel powerful and hungry in a way he's never allowed himself before.

“Then that’s good enough for me,” he promises against her ear. The stamp of a kiss along her neck makes her squirm with delight.

She wipes the leftover moisture on her shoulder. “We can go slow though, right, Jug? I mean, I know we’re _living_ together,” she admits, rolling her eyes good-naturedly, and he still can't believe that it's happening to them. “It’s just going to be a lot at once, and if we feel overwhelmed, I want us to actually be able to talk it out. No hiding. There’s no room for it.”

“No hiding,” he promises, faking some kind of Scout’s honor gesture. “Only teasing. You’ve gotta give me that. Maybe the occasional ranting.”

“ _Occasional_ ranting?” she repeats, eyebrow quirked.

“Okay. Daily ranting.” He pulls her up until she’s cuddled into his lap. “You knew who I was before we started this thing.”

“True. I think I’m going to take you to In-N-Out Burger and order everything off the normal and secret menu,” she decides, and Jughead's heart swells with uncontainable adoration, his fingers flexing in the urge to hold her forever.

“Betty Cooper… keep this up and you’re never going to get rid of me.”

“That’s kind of the point, Juggie.”

“Ah, the sweet joys of bribery,” he teased, guiding her closer until he could close his lips around her grin to savor this feeling.

~~~ _ONE WEEK LATER_ ~~~

Although being a beach chariot isn’t exactly glamorous, Jughead’s glad that as of tomorrow he’ll have a job and a temporary bicycle. Plus, the job gets him and Betty into the beach for free _and_ he can have a side-hustle of selling snacks and drinks from a cooler strapped to the bike. _If he doesn’t eat them_ , Betty warns. He thinks he can pace himself. If he can sleep with Betty without making a mess on the sheets every night, he can probably do anything.

She tugs and twists her soaked hair so a stream of water trails down her breasts. “What?”

“Just having a _From Here to Eternity_ moment.”

Her grin spreads impossibly wide, hair pulled tighter. He wants to fist her tangled locks and fuck her gently on the sand. The haze of lust recedes with a flick of her wrist, cold water spraying across his chest.

“I am _not_ laying on this beach,” she declares, determined eyes glittering with the water. “We’ll get tar in places that aren’t easy to clean.”

Incredulous at her brilliant mind, he shakes his head. “Fucking...Hollywood.”

“They romanticize,” she agrees, turning the waves like a basketball in her hands.

“All right. I’ll settle for tossing you in bridal style.”

“What? No!” she protests, pushing and kicking and laughing in delight when he wraps his arms around her.

Eventually, they’re just floating, two ships at sea. Maybe not that, even, because she’s such a fucking buoy in his life. Her arms are wrapped around his neck, her legs around his waist, weightless and safe as he paddles them towards the shore.

“Let’s go home,” she murmurs contentedly, lips brushing his cheek.

Holding her tighter, he feels like they’re already there.

Still, he lifts her up and carries her almost all the way up through the shallows to the beach, where she hops down, pecks his stinging lips, and leads him the rest of the way to their towels. Flip-flops between her fingers, she starts the long trek back to the bus.

 _I love you_ , he wants to say. Instead, he shoulders their other beach bag and holds her extended hand.

On the bus ride back, he gets so relaxed by the rocking motion and Betty’s little neck rubs that he passes out. She nudges him back into the realm of the living.

“We’re next,” she says softly, as though she’s afraid of waking up the whole bus by being gentle with him. No one is really paying attention to them, which he’s grateful for because he definitely touches her ass when going to help her up from their seat. She laughs, hopping down the steps. “Too much fun today? You need a nap?”

He probably needs a cold shower after being around her sun-kissed skin all evening, but other than feeling sort of sticky, he’s content.

“No, I’m fine.”

“Mm _hm_ ,” she muses, totally unconvinced. “I’m proud of you, by the way.” He arches his eyebrows in confusion. “You’re brave. You’re resourceful. You’re...creating your own path and I really admire you for it.” She smiles so softly that his insides flutter. “Thanks for letting me be a part of your summer adventure.”

“Thanks for letting _me_ be a part of yours.” He winds his arm around her shoulder and holds her close despite the hip-knocking that comes by walking with so many bags and coolers strapped to them. There’s a lot more he wants to say, but he’ll probably sound sleep-drunk if he gushes on about her right after waking up from a nap. Instead, he kisses the crown of her sandy, salty hair, and treasures that they get to call the same place _home_.

Once they’ve packed everything away, he makes a mental note to offer to do the laundry this week while she’s at work and hops in the shower.

“Juggie?”

Her sweet little voice needling into the bathroom makes him start. It’s not like the shower curtain is sheer, but it is flimsy, and when he pulls it back to peer at her, he’s pretty sure it billows more than needed. Shoving at the bottom with his foot to try and maintain his decency, he pushes his wet hair back.

“What’s up, Betts?”

Her cheeks are so rosy that he worries about sunburn, even though she seemed _fine_ earlier. “Do you mind if I brush my teeth?”

“No, of course not.”

“Thanks.”

She’s beaming with self-satisfaction as she slides the rest of the way into the tight little bathroom they share. Maybe she’s pleased because he trusts her enough to let her in when he's showering. His clothes are on the closed toilet lid instead of the sink, at least, so she has room to maneuver. The Andrews’ master bathroom had a double sink he never understood the purpose of. It’s not like two people could both pee at the same time before bed. Might as well go one at a time to get ready.

Still, he peeks at Betty for this unusual intimacy. She’s humming a little song to herself as she brushes her teeth. Her song gets garbled when she notices him and grins a little wider, spitting into the sink. By all accounts, she should be done, but she sticks the brush back in and keeps singing, this time spitting more delicately, eyeing him up and showing off her sudsy, pink tongue.

 _Well fuck,_ he thinks, cheeks flushing. He jerks back behind the curtain, definitely getting hard, and _definitely_ not able to come out like _this_. His showers are usually pretty short, so she might notice something if he lingers. But still, why would she brush her teeth while he’s…

The hot water falls thick and steady on the back of his neck.

Unless she _wanted_ to keep him naked for this little intimacy.

 _Betty Cooper, you little minx_ , he thinks, wiping his mouth in awe.

“Hey, Betts. You mind handing me my toothbrush?”

The nozzle squeaks on and off for a second, washing away her fizz. “You want to brush in there?”

“Seems as good a time as any, right?”

“Oh. Okay.” Sounding slightly more unsure of herself, Betty gets his toothbrush, fumbling with it when he peeks out at her from behind the shower curtain. “Hi.”

“Hi.” He grins.

“I’ll...get you loaded up.” He can’t _believe_ the turn of phrase she’s using as she squeezes some toothpaste out for him.

“Thanks. Gotta stay minty fresh.” Reaching out means the curtain peels back farther on his body, steam engulfing the room and the mirror. Betty inhales deeply. “You can wash up if you want. Keep me company.” He winks, not sure if it’s possible to brush his teeth and be charming at the same time, but willing to risk an attempt.

“Okay.”

The gears are turning in that brilliant mind of hers as she turns back to the now-fogged mirror. They’re watching each other. Him, with his hip pinning the lower half of the curtain to the tile, and her, brushing her hair. He lathers and spits, the repetitive motion distracting him so he doesn’t jerk off right in front of his gorgeous, scheming girlfriend.

He watches her primp and make up stuff she doesn’t even need to do. Apply lip balm. Pluck her eyebrows in the heart she draws on the misty mirror that they’ll probably have to clean tomorrow. All of her little gestures make him want this life for them even more.

When she’s satisfied, she rolls her lips inwards and stretches her thin sleep top. “You ready?”

Spitting out some water, Jughead nods. He hands her the toothbrush, his heart thrumming as she trades him for the _good_ towel - the extra fluffy one.

 _I love you_ , he wants to say, but this time the steam is so thick in the air that something electric tingles underneath.

He keeps an eye on her as he dries off, the sliver of the open shower curtain a thrilling peek-a-boo that he’s sure she can’t see _everything_ through. Tying the towel in a strategically placed knot around his waist, he fists the shower curtain, ready to yank down the barrier between them, “Are you ready?”

“Yeah.”

Her husky voice preempts the flutter of measly plastic and clattering rings. Steam circles around them, her eyes dark and wide, lips parted as she stands there waiting for him. There’s that same sort of wonder as when she first saw him outside her publishing house, like he can do anything, like the moment she regains her facilities she’ll be wrapping her whole body around him.

In two steps he’s pressed her flush against the door, locking the fog of desire in with them.

“Jug…” Jughead cradles and carves his love into her skin - one hand on her neck, the other on her hip - his mouth forging a path along her skin. She shivers, arching into him.

 _Stay where you are_ , he wants to order her, pinning her a little more firmly against the door.

“Yes,” she breathes, clutching his wet hair.

“You were spying.” He sucks punishing little kisses against her throat.

“Y–yes.”

“You like what you see, Nancy Drew?”

She moans, biting down on her grin.

“Tell me,” he needles, hand skimming up her top as their lips meet messily for a kiss.

“ _Yes._ I like what I _feel_ , too.”

Pulling back in astonishment, Jughead mirrors her growing, almost _feral_ grin. She hops up as he moves back in, her legs wrapping around his waist. By some miracle, the towel doesn’t fall but fuck if he cares if it did right now. He grinds himself against her and the friction of the towel, her tongue sliding slick and needy against his. Desire gnawing at his veins, Jughead hoists her back from the door, cradling her against him as he manages to stumble them out of the bathroom and onto their bed.

She scrambles with them hem of her top. Without even thinking, he helps her tug it off. Something sparks in his brain.

_No bra._

Betty is not wearing a bra. She is topless. She is smiling at him, legs wrapped around his waist, and she is _bare_ from the hips up, just like him.

Well, not _just_ like him, because there’s nothing but a flimsy towel between her and his raging hard-on and she has underwear and shorts. Unless she isn’t wearing panties, either.

Precum leaks out and for one bright, flashing moment, he wonders if he’s going to come. And then he doesn’t have to wonder. The pressure of her bare thighs squeezing him closer to her - breasts and sex - pushes him over the edge. He gives out a strangled, warning cry, wishing he could make it as good for her as she makes it for him, and then he’s cresting. Gone. Obliterated by Betty-ness and orgasm.

A few seconds later he’s aware of the vague sting of scratches along his back, of Betty’s dewy skin warm against his, and her beautiful, perfect breasts rising and falling in a pant.

Feeling boneless, like he’s just run a mile, Jughead groans and lifts his sweaty forehead, expecting to see shock, disappointment, or disgust on his dream girl’s face. Instead, he finds delight. Pride. She kisses him gently, practically sparkling at him.

“Sorry, I…”

“Don’t be sorry,” she assures him, combing her fingers through his hair until it’s parted where he likes. “I wasn’t expecting things to get so hot and heavy.”

“I’ll get better,” he promises, kissing her neck, down to her chest. With a weak whimper, he looks at her boobs. “I didn’t even get to pay proper tribute to _these_.”

She tries and fails to hold back a laugh. “I think I’d have to disagree.”

Sinking into her embrace, hoping it swallows him whole, Jughead uses her body to muffle his embarrassed groan.

“Well, when you spend your whole life pining after someone…” _and you realize they really fucking want you and are there for you and there’s almost nothing between your naked bodies…_

“Your whole life? Pining?” she repeats, eyes wide and bright. “You’ve liked me for that long?”

 _Stupid hormone brain_ , he winces. “Well...I can’t pinpoint _exactly_ when it became more romantic than platonic love, but _…_ ”

“Jug,” she repeats, and now she _is_ shocked, tightening her thighs around him and kissing him with a strength worthy of smothering. Then, inexplicably, she’s shivering.

“Shit! Betty…” He panics, cupping her face with both hands to support her. Half-formed thoughts tumble in his brain in the search for a solution. Did he say too much? Should he lie and say he was exaggerating?

“You love me?” He _thinks_ she’s smiling, but her cheeks are still streaked with shiny, overwhelmed tears.

“I…” His throat closes and swells. He can’t lie to her. He won’t. His gut feels stretched and thick with fear and longing. “Yeah, Betts. Of course, I love you.”

Bewildered and glorious, she cups his face. “I love you, too.”

Then she’s crying happy tears and trying to kiss him and it’s the best kind of salt water sting he’s ever experienced. Something inexplicable winds in him so tightly that he can’t even express it in words. He keeps kissing her, holding her, his own tears threaded in his eyelashes as his brain hangs onto: _She loves you_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, they're moving right along now :) Don't worry - Jughead will come clean about his reasons for coming to Cali soon. Stay well!


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Miiiiiiild FP-related angst here. But also there's talk about sex in the beginning. That's all the warning I have in me because I mostly want to hug this really soft blanket like a pillow. I hope this is fluffy enough for all of us!

Betty and Jughead have permeated every inch of each other’s beings. At least, that’s the way she feels about it, despite technically being virgins. She loves him. He loves her. After their first spontaneous foray into sexual activity, Jughead applies his intense passion into studying how to make her come so hard that her body tremors–almost like the minor earthquakes that rattle through the apartment on occasion. Orgasms build up slowly and then pulse through her all at once until her whole being vibrates with waves of needy euphoria for Jughead’s loving touch.

They’re learning a lot by living together: which sleeping positions work best to prevent snoring, their own takes on cooking and dish-washing etiquette, how to delegate focus and fun, how to fight and make up, and even the most effective ways to show their love. If she had her way, the sun would permanently burn the hickey she leaves on his neck into his skin. Sometimes just the way she says his name pushes him over the edge and coats her thighs in his sticky come. Her breasts had never been particularly sensitive until Jughead’s touch and tongue awaken them to all sorts of dark needs that have her soaked and begging to be stuffed with him.

The other interns joke that she’s glowing. Thankfully, she knows it’s impossible for her to be pregnant. The open talk about birth control when she and Jughead were wheeling past the _family planning_ section has set it up so he knows they don’t need condoms when the time comes for that, but they might use them anyway since it’s better to be safe.

She’ll be his first, apparently, like he’ll be hers, and that fills her with a strange, glowing sense of excitement because she can trust him, be open in a way she wasn’t sure she could be with another person. Pretending to be perfect all the time doesn’t work in a one-bedroom apartment for weeks on end. So… she’s herself. And Jughead welcomes that the same way she welcomes it from him.

Right now, they’re happy with the way things are. Neither of them are lonely. They’re not _buried_ in each other, either. Betty still occasionally hangs out with her coworkers sans her boyfriend or brings them to the beach to give him a kiss, massage, and maybe an ice cube bath before he gets off his shift. He loves writing in the library and joins a game night at the local bookstore where he gloats about his triumphs and tries not to sulk on the rare occasion someone else wipes the floor with him. When Betty brings him snacks and sits on his lap, his ego rebuilds at a rapid rate until he’s sitting up straight like he’s the king of the castle and she’s his queen. He’s proud to have her as his partner and it makes her radiate with appreciation that he traveled to California so they could grow together this way.

She could easily see herself living with him for longer than a few weeks–maybe even forever, as naive as that may be. Sure, he still stiffens anytime the phone rings, but that’s to be expected when her Mom is one of the most frequent callers and they have to cover up their unique situation as best as they can.

After Archie ignores her Fourth of July text, she doesn’t reach out again. The three musketeers have never been apart for this long before and she wonders if they’ll all be okay once they get back in the same absent way she hoped they’d still be interested in her when she got back from California. Kevin assures her everything is _fine_ on the phone, but he’s been distracted by his discovery of a hookup spot in Fox Forest, so she’s not sure how much stock to put in his answer. Riverdale feels like a saran-wrapped memory tucked in the back of the fridge–not at the front of her mind, but certainly something she intends to come back to, assuming it hasn’t turned, yet.

Leaving this bubble seems like a step backward. But they have their whole lives ahead of them: her and Jughead. Everyone, really, but he’s the one she’s been visualizing beside her in the next five years.

She’s so glad they’re not just _dating_ , that he’s not some guy she needs to spend hours dissecting and getting to know and worrying about because she already loves him and knows him and he knows _her_ \- most of her darkness and all the funny bits in between. Him coming to LA was like the world giving her a gift - a preview of what love could be, what will keep growing between them.

But she likes time to process things, so one day, after he’s sated and full after eating a homemade picnic one the beach, she gently but firmly asks him what’s going on without any room for him to question what she means by it.

After a few beats, he shakes his head and looks out on the water, the corner of his mouth twitching in an attempted wry smile. “I don’t know. I just wanted to be happy, for a change. Coming here seemed like the best shot I had–and it worked, exceeded my expectations in every way possible.”

Taking his hand, her lip quivers in a watery smile. _She_ makes him happy. “That’s great, Jug. Having you here feels like having a piece of home–or making one, anyway. But what happened in Riverdale to push you all the way to the West Coast? It’s not like you to take off like that.”

Snorting, he turns away. “You don’t know that.”

Determination floods her veins as she squeezes her fingers around his. “Yes, I do, Jug,because I know you, and I know who you are.” His gaze bores into her with an intensity that firms her resolve. “I want this happiness to go beyond the summer.”

“Me too,” he assures her, readjusting in his seat to grip her hand more firmly.

“Whatever’s happening in Riverdale will probably be there when we get back. At least some of it has to be, right?” She picks at the hem of her shorts, wondering about Polly. Maybe people are hurt or hurting and she’s been too busy trying to be the best intern and girlfriend to notice. What’s really happening in her hometown and with the people she loves? Ignorance might be bliss, but she wants to know everything.

~~~

Betty’s brow wrinkles in consternation and it makes Jughead’s heartache. Playing house with her has been better than anything he could’ve imagined. They’re not even _playing_ –they’re living it, but he still gets this sense that they’re on vacation or in a dream of some kind and the moment he brings up Riverdale all the shit in his life will come rushing back in.

The idea of facing the faint smell of mold in the trailer sink, his father’s sweat stinking of booze that permeates the sheets, and Archie’s selfish music-or-football obsession amidst the demand to know what the hell was going on with Betty makes Jughead’s gut tighten in anxiety.

“I’ve had dreams about it going back.” His toes dig into the sand. “They always end up as nightmares.” The latest was sitting with Betty at the Cooper dinner table, a diamond ring glistening from her finger while she squeezed him reassuringly, tight sweater snug against her breasts. A family dinner. It was too perfect. Everyone was too happy, their smiles so tight and curved. And then a flicker of static, a clink of a bottle. His father in an armchair. Archie emerged from the kitchen, incredulously asking, “How could you?” with a pointed look at Betty, at _his_ rightful place beside her at the table, before turning around in his Varsity letter with Jughead’s knife protruding from his back, leaving Jughead with the sick knowledge that he _enjoyed_ wedging it there in revenge.

But that’s not what this is. He loves Betty. He always has, even if he tried to suppress it for the sake of his former best friend. But then Betty went to California and Archie wasn’t the boy next door, just another asshole who left Jughead for dead, and maybe the golden boy didn’t deserve that happy ending. He might still get it. Or maybe if Jughead tries enough…but that’s dangerous thinking. There’s this niggling feeling deep in Jughead’s gut that everything is doomed to fail in his life–that people will abandon, forget, or ignore him. This could all be a happy distraction for Betty in her first foray away from Alice. And yet, he believes her when she says she loves him. He shouldn’t. He should guard himself, prepare for the inevitable disaster, but then she smiles at him or sneaks his early chapters in front of an agent, holding his hand through every line of feedback or she does something like this and shows she wants to _be_ with him and he can’t help himself from drowning in his love for her.

“There wasn’t a single instance, I guess. The big bummer of summer was when my dad got fired from Andrews’ Construction. It was his fault. It usually is. So I tried picking up the slack, but it didn’t seem like he was interested. Nothing helped. I couldn’t shake him out of it, so I escaped into writing and holed up at the Twilight when I wasn’t doing odd jobs for Fred.” He bites his lip, rocking back and forth in his seat while he debates what to say next, the image of her bright smile burned on the back of his brain. “Technically, I guess the first shadow was when you left. I don’t blame you,” he hurries, making sure to look into her beautiful, stormy eyes to prove it. “You had this wonderful opportunity and I figured being stuck behind with my other best friend before he became Varsity quarterback wasn’t the worst way to spend the summer. But then Archie stopped answering–got distracted, I guess. He ditched me earlier _and_ later than expected,” he added, trying to inject sarcasm into his pain.

“Why would he do that?”

“I don’t know. The last I talked to him we were making plans and then he dropped off the map. After that, I wondered what the hell I was staying in town for. Some misplaced sense of loyalty? So I packed my bags and instead of bonding with my supposed best friend, I came out to see the brilliant girl who made the world seem a little better.”

Even now, her blonde hair shimmers with glistening sand and sunlight, making him wish he could catch it instead of run it through his fingertips while she smiles at him.

Her thumb strokes his skin in a soothing motion. “Do you think things will be the same when we get back?”

“I can’t imagine they’d be different,” he huffs, trying to ignore the question.

“Well, _I_ am,” she says and the simple statement nearly pulls him under the tide again, his breath hitching in his chest. “You…this changed who I am, and I’m never going back.”

“What would Mrs. Cooper have to say about that?” he teases, falling easily into sarcasm.

“Let’s find out.” She crawls over their foraged feast to take her place on his lap. They kiss, making up stories about living in California forever or returning to Riverdale with matching fake tattoos just to give her parents a heart attack. Wherever the future takes them, he’s glad he has _this_ and writes about it so he can keep these moments forever.

~~~

Betty’s laying in domestic bliss, legs tangled around Jughead, whose head is resting contentedly on her breast, when her phone goes off. It’s Archie’s ringtone, which Jughead had jokingly switched to _Wonderwall_ by Oasis.

He smirks, snuggling her closer. “Ignore it.”

“It could be important,” she tries to convince herself. Although Kevin seems to think Archie’s licking his wounds at being abandoned by his two besties for the summer, every attempt Betty made to include him in her life has gone mostly unappreciated and apparently he did the same to Jughead. Maybe Jughead is right. Maybe she _should_ ignore the call. But maybe he needs help–and he is–was?–her best friend.

“Think of it this way - now he’ll get to leave his newest song on your voicemail so you can listen to it again and again.”

Groaning, she reaches for her phone, shocked when Jughead shoots up and wrestles her to the bed. There’s a spark of something in his eye when he pins her that floods her belly with heat. “You want a serenade?” he asks.

Biting her lip, she nods, wondering if he’ll actually follow through.

He starts fake-crooning along to the ringtone, “ _I said maybe, you’re gonna be the one that saaaves me,”_ the vibration of his voice hot against her neck. Conflictingly enough, it makes her want to laugh, rut against him, and shove him off the bed. “ _Jughead!_ ”

They settle into more wrestling and flirting as the song fades away, Jughead kissing down her chest and shortening her breath. Hooking her legs around him, Betty starts twisting and rubbing against his chest.

 _“There are many things that I...would like to say to you...but I don’t know ho-o-ow~”_ Her phone blares again, surprising them both enough to turn to look at it.

“Twice in a row? Must be desperate,” Jughead notes with a furrowed brow.

 _That does it_ , she thinks, reaching over to pick up the phone.

“Softie,” Jughead protests, biting her neck.

“Ah!” She gasps at the contact, squeezing her thighs together as she swipes to answer the call. “Archie? Hi–”

“I know you’re with him and I know he doesn’t want to deal with me, but I _need_ to talk to Jughead,” Archie demands. She’s not used to such a firm tone coming from their boyish best friend.

Confused, she looks down at Jughead. “Okay. I’ll put you on speaker.”

Although Jughead opens his mouth to protest, he quickly shuts it when he sees the phone light up with Archie’s contact image, speakerphone already activated.

“I don’t know if you want to make this private or not, man, but it’s about your dad.”

Betty’s heart clenches in panic as Jughead’s face goes ashen. He doesn’t say anything, doesn’t move, just keeps holding her tightly, glaring at the phone like it’s a bomb about to erupt.

The silence stretches on long enough that she feels prickles under her skin. “I can leave…”

Jughead holds her tightly, brow furrowed. “No. Stay.”

Honored that he’d want her here, she strokes his hair. “Okay. Go ahead, Arch.”

“Your dad’s been arrested for aiding and abetting in the kidnapping of Jason Blossom.”

“What?” They shoot each other alarmed looks.

Automatically, she brings her phone closer, hurriedly texting Kevin for confirmation as Archie continues. “My dad was his one phone call to make sure if you ever came back that you’d have a place to stay. I don’t know if you mean to come back with Betty or what, but he also said–he said to lay low. That maybe you shouldn’t come back to Riverdale for a while.”

“Unbelievable,” Jughead mutters, rolling over onto Betty’s side as she gets the confirmation text from Kevin. She feels _terrible_ for him and automatically wants to help.

“What can we do? We can’t just let FP go to jail. He wouldn’t _kidnap_ someone.”

Jughead gives her a look like maybe she’s being naive. Bristling with the need for justice not just for FP, but for Jughead, she clenches the phone tighter.

“He turned himself in,” Archie supplies.

“ _What?_ ”

“Brilliant. Fucking genius.”

“He said Clifford Blossom blackmailed him to do it–said he’d hurt Jug the same way.” Before Betty or Jughead can even process that, Archie clarifies, “He was also paid? We don’t have all the details. FP just told my dad to look out for you or have you stay with the Serpents–”

“The _Serpents_?” Betty balks, shocked that he’d suggest his son stay with a notorious gang.

“Until the trial blows over.”

Cursing, Jughead runs his hands down his face.

“You okay, man?”

“ _Great_.”

Stunned, Betty lets everything sink in. It’s clear that Jughead’s not ready to start making plans.

“Like seeing Jason in the halls wasn’t awful enough, now there’s kidnapping and blackmail involved.”

“It’s not Jason’s fault!” Archie protests.

“I’m not saying it is, _Archibald._ ”

After a few more uncomfortable seconds, Betty tries placating the feuding friends. “It’s safe for Jug to be here, right?”

“I think so. Safer than back here, anyway. I doubt Clifford can get to Jug on the West Coast. I’m not even sure he knows where he is.”

Betty takes a deep breath, curling her feet into the mattress and pinning one of Jughead’s calves under hers. “Okay, that’s…” She trails off as Jughead shoots her a sharp look. “A start?”

“I can’t put you in danger, Betty.”

“You’re not.” Baffled, she draws him closer. “You’re safe with me! I’ll talk to Kevin. We’ll–we’ll work this out.”

Sighing, he looks at her like he _wants_ to believe what she’s saying and isn’t quite there.

Archie sounds apologetic. “I don’t have anything else tonight, but can I call you tomorrow, once we know more?”

“Of course,” Betty insists, stroking Jughead’s shoulders. He doesn’t say anything, jaw clenched tight. “You can call me any time.”

“Jug?”

“Fine, I guess.”

“Look, I was freaked out when I blew you off. I’ve been dealing with my own stuff – not like this, but…” Archie huffs. Betty can easily visualize him rubbing the back of his neck. “I’m sorry. You’re practically my brother. I just...I want you to know that even though I kinda screwed up this summer, I still have your back. I’ve missed you. Both of you. You’re my best friends and no matter what it takes, I want to earn that friendship back.”

Jughead’s gaze darts back and forth, seeming to decide how to move forward. Betty can certainly forgive Archie for putting their friendship on the back burner while he was going through something. She can do the same for her sister, even. But Jughead was left on his own by everyone he trusted. Now _this..._

“Okay,” Jughead says, swallowing stiffly. “I have to go. Thanks.”

“Talk to you later, Arch.” After hanging up, they shift so they’re upright, side-by-side. “This is insane _._ You want me to call Kevin and find out what's going on?” There isn’t really a clear path forward for her boyfriend’s father going to prison for attempting to kidnap one of their classmates - Polly’s ex-boyfriend, actually. Current boyfriend? With everything going on, Betty hasn’t investigated her sister’s caginess as much in the past week, but maybe they’ve broken up again amidst the drama of everything.

“No. Let’s get through tonight and deal with it in the morning.”

“What can I do?” She traces the bone of his tanned wrist.

“Just being with you helps.” His lips twitch in a sincere smile that can’t quite linger. “I know you probably have a million questions about my dad and the fight with Archie and the Serpents thing.” She winces, hoping she’s not being nosy and obvious. “But I just need time to process this. Is that okay?” The hesitant hope on his face makes her insides go doughy and soft.

“Of course. I’m here for you and support you in any way you need.”

He presses a grateful kiss to her lips. “I’ll tell you. I promise. I just need to let it sit for a minute.”

“I know, Juggie,” she assures him, stroking his face. She’ll wait as long as he needs her to.

“I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

They watch movies in bed and Betty fights to stay awake long enough to distract him. “It’s okay,” he promises, kissing her forehead and stroking her shoulder. “Go to sleep.”

“No! I’m fine.” She sits up straighter and pinches her thigh.

“Do _not_ bruise yourself to stay awake for me,” he chides, grabbing her hand and spreading the fingers until he can kiss them. Her stomach is almost _sick_ with how much she loves him.

She drifts off a few times, jerking awake and checking his face to see if he's noticed. All he does is cradle her closer, kiss her brow, and tell her to go back to sleep. Eventually, when she wakes up, his cheek is heavy on her forehead, their streaming queue paused on the message, " _Are you still watching?"_

As his soft breathing continues, she snuggles in close, determined to hold it all together.

~~~

Right before work, Betty gives him a lingering kiss that makes his insides stretch like caramel, hoping he can stick to her until the end. “Love you,” she says, long eyelashes framing her tender, sensitive gaze.

Sometimes he just wants to wrap around her and never let go. “Have a great day.”

She offers him a small smile and hovers in the doorway for a moment like she’s considering calling in sick to be with him.

“I’m fine,” he says dismissively. “I’m going to call my dad today and get some answers, hopefully.”

“I’m sure you will, Jug.”

When she continues beaming at him, all soft and optimistic, his heart tugs him towards her until he gets off the bed to at least feign chasing her out the door. “ _Go_. I’ll talk to you after. Promise.” It’s still bizarre and wonderful to him that she goes all starry-eyed when he gets within a certain range. Kissing her gives him the strength he needs to get through the day.

“Love you, Betty.”

“Have a great day,” she repeats, slightly cheeky, as she walks away As he watches her leave, he sighs, lingering in the warmth that is and was her presence.

Hopefully, the Jones luck is changing.

He wipes his thumb against his mouth and dials the number Archie texted him.

After some typical _this phone call may be recorded_ messages, a disinterested guard comes on the line. “Who are you trying to reach?”

“Forsythe Pendleton Jones Jr.”

“And who is calling?”

He sighs, hating everything associated with this cursed name. “Forsythe Pendleton Jones the third.”

There’s an awkward moment of silence. “Please hold.” Pacing, Jughead runs a hand through his hair and tries to think of what to say.

_Hey, Dad. How’s the kidnapping gig? You missed me so much you had to steal someone else?_

_So… you’ve graduated from misdemeanors into felonies. Congratulations._

“Forsythe Pendleton Jones Jr is on the line.”

There isn’t a click to indicate the guard has left the call. There isn’t anything but tension that seems to swell in the room just by listening to his father breathe on the other end of the line.

“Hey, kid.”

His throat feels tight. He wants to say _hey_ , but what comes out is a gravelly, “Why?”

The phone crackles like FP’s curling the wire connection. “We shouldn’t be doing this over the phone.”

“Unless you’ve got video chat privileges, this is the best we’ve got. I can’t magically teleport a hundred thousand miles to where you are.”

“Don’t tell anybody where you are, boy. It’s not safe.”

“What do you mean it’s not safe? Is Be–” He halts, swallowing her name. “Is anyone in danger? Archie said something about Clifford’s threats. If I’m staying–”

“It’s going to be okay,” he insists. “I’ve got something worked out with the DA.”

“Really?” He sniffs, moisture dripping down to his lip. “It’ll all be wiped away? Just like that?”

“No, not _just like that_ , but–”

“How could you do this? How could you try to _kidnap_ someone? Was it for money? Booze? _What_?”

“I did it for _you_ , boy!”

Shocked, Jughead freezes in place. “Well, _that’s_ fresh.”

“No, that’s not–”

“Guess they should arrest me for existing _,_ then.”

“Look, I turned myself in so you’d have a shot at a life without–without your old man’s sins hanging over it.”

“Hate to break it to you, Dad, but I think it’s a little late for that.” He presses his head against the wall as if it can squeeze sense back into the conversation.

“I can’t change the past. But when I heard you moved on, sought out people who made you _better_ , I saw this whole life ahead of you. I’m so proud of you, Jug.” His father’s weeping makes his chest ache. He pushes his fingers against his eyelids to staunch the tears brewing there. “It’s gonna be okay. You can come home, soon. Once the DA works out everything, it should be a minimal sentence.”

“So you’ll still be in jail?”

“I don’t know, yet.” With a shaky breath, Jughead tries cry quietly enough that the guards can’t hear him mourn his father yet again. “Look, wherever you are, you have a good thing set up. Be careful. Enjoy it, okay? You deserve it.”

He and Betty deserve to be happy. They do. And yet–

Unable to respond, Jughead shakes with tears.

“Hey, it’ll be okay,” FP reminds him. “By the time you get back, we’ll have everything figured out. The important thing is that you stay safe.”

“You too.” He sniffs. “If Clifford threatened...”

“Keller’s on the case and been in contact with the state. It’s only a matter of time before they catch him.”

“Right.” Jughead doesn’t believe _that_ for a second. “Maybe I should try to find him? Lure him out?” Strangely enough, FP laughs. Indignant, Jughead’s tears dry up. “What’s so funny about that?”

“The Serpents are on it, kid. I have no doubt you’d be able to handle this, but you shouldn’t have to. Not this time.”

The call ends a short time later and Jughead lets the stress of everything out by smothering himself in the bed that still smells like him and Betty.

Once he feels more numb than freaked out, he texts her: _What are the chances Kevin hasn’t told everyone at our school we’re shacked up together in California?_

 **Betty:** _Slim? But we could also have him spread a rumor that you took off when you heard about your dad if it makes you feel better._

Chuckling darkly, he shakes his head and types back, “Ecstatic.” Teeth digging into his lip, he stares at the ceiling, running over their conversations in his head. Even though she loves him, this kind of stress was bound to get to them. Was Riverdale hell-bent on dismantling any sense of stability he managed to craft? Maybe he should lean into the chaos angle.

 **Jughead:** _What if you came with me?_

 **Betty:** _What do you mean?_

 **Jughead:** _In this hypothetical universe, what if we hopped on my bike and left? Went to a place with no hyper-controlling mothers, no convict fathers. The town couldn’t get to us. We’d be romantic runaways: like Romeo and Juliet._

 **Betty:** _But we’d live happily ever after, instead ;)_

 **Jughead:** _So, what do you say?_

 **Betty:** _I’d elope with you any day <3_

What a fantasy, he sighs, wondering if he can really convince her to stay away from the town and all the problems that come with it.

 **Betty:** _Is it wrong of me to ask if we can hold out long enough for me to meet Toni Morrison?_

Laughing, he rolls over in bed. There are many things wrong with the world, but Betty loving literature–and him, a tiny voice in his head adds–isn’t one of them.


	6. Chapter 6

They’re laying on their backs on a secluded section of the beach, Jughead’s hip bones tan and inviting when he stretches his back. Betty is the past the point of being embarrassed when he catches her looking. Maybe one day she’ll stop feeling spoiled by getting to see him without the beanie on a regular basis, but for now, she can’t help the butterflies in her stomach every time his hair flops over in dark waves. Whenever she checks him out, a glimmer of pride lights up his eyes and he smiles, alleviating him of some of the stress that seems to sit on his back as they get closer to leaving.

“You know, we could live on the beach or at the library,” he muses, rubbing her side. “No exorbitant rental fees. I know you never expected to hear me say this, but we could join a gym, get ripped, shower there, maybe get discovered and become millionaire models-slash-writers in our respective fields.”

Normally, she’d grin and play along, but this is the fourth time he’s mentioned something similar, and it no longer seems like idle musings or sardonic commentary on how much he’d rather continue their life in California than return to the burdens of Riverdale.

“That sounds nice, Jug.”

“But?”

“But we’re barely even sixteen,” she reminds him gently. “We need to get our GED’s. As much as I’d love to keep working in publishing and live with my sexy, caring, thoughtful boyfriend, my parents would murder me–and you, possibly.”

“Hey, if Clifford Blossom couldn’t make it happen…”

She sits up, giving him a sharp look. “You’re not getting off so easily.”

“True. We still don’t know what she did with your sister–or what Jason did. Or my dad, I guess.” He laughs humorlessly. “Riverdale holds a lot of mysteries.”

“Don’t you want to uncover them with me?” she asks, tilting her head pleadingly.

He groans, lip twitching. “You’re playing dirty.”

“We are on a beach.” She runs her fingers down his chest, idly tugging on the drawstrings of his swim trunks. “Do you need more convincing?”

His eyes are dark, his soul on display when his voice strains between pleading and commanding, “Distract me.”

Anybody could see them, here. There are only a few early-morning joggers that have passed beyond their umbrella shield, so she’s fairly certain no one will catch them, but the fact that they could is kind of exciting. Her and Jughead have made out on the beach before, even done some stuff in the water, but nothing crazy. Betty’s feeling risky because Jughead is right about one thing: time is running out. And right now, they’re free.

They start by kissing–long, languid, all-the-time-in-the-world-and-I-want-to-spend-it-with-you kisses. The seemingly omnipresent texture of sunscreen gives way to her fingernails. A spot over his pubic bone makes Jughead gasp, allowing her to capture his bottom lip with her teeth and suck on his resulting groan. Her hands wander lower, under the gap in his shorts, so she can grasp him fully. Doing this dry requires caution, so she kisses along Jughead’s neck, loving the way his pulse jumps with every inch.

“Betts,” he says, voice rough, arching his hips.

“Let me take care of you, Jug.”

Thankfully, they haven’t been in the water yet, so his dick and her hands are free of salt and sand, though she does use a cleaning wipe on her palms to make sure neither of them has a grating surprise. Sucking him off outside is a totally new and thrilling experience. He’s trying to be quiet and she keeps doing just enough to tease him to break his resolve. His fist pounds into their beach blanket as he chants her name, tension working its way out of him through the tip of her tongue, his deliciously tanned, toned body thriving underneath her. He flicks open the knot behind her neck, letting her bikini top fall, and she knows by the way his eyes roll back that it’s not so much to expose her breasts but to feel them against his legs. By the time he comes, she’s swept away by the sensation of being with him and the privilege of sparking his passion. He’s brilliant and caring and she could talk to him or sit in silence for hours on end, if not infinite weeks. Eventually, she’s on her back, the sky open above them, his fingers curled around hers and it feels like the universe knows that she is with her soulmate, a thousand possibilities before them and a wonderful now at their fingertips. No one can take that from them.

~~~

“Come here,” he manages, throat dry, limbs loose and heavy from the orgasm.

Betty crawls up to him, her lips swollen and red, and he feels his dick flicker again. As much as he used to judge some of their classmates for being a walking gland, Jughead finally gets it. He’d make love to Betty any and everywhere if she wanted him to, but he never imagined getting a blowjob on the beach was in the cards for him. Not only because–well, it’s Betty…and him, but because he doesn’t want to share this intimacy where anyone else could partake in it. And yet, when Betty is around, the rest of the world fades away.

He clears his throat, fighting the urge to curl up around her and nap. “I never thought my life would turn into a Beach Boys song.”

“Which one?”

“Wouldn’t It Be Nice,” they say at the same time. Betty giggles, nuzzling into the nook right above his heart that seems specially carved out for her.

The ocean climbs onto the sand over and over in a ceaseless, relaxing dance. Like boats against the current, he muses, remembering how morose he’d been, tampering his expectations as far as how much the Golden state could turn around his summer, let alone his life. Instead of writing about small towns slathered in shadows, he’s able to process things on a big city like LA level where kids like him would go to skate parks and the beach and sneak into parties and the weather was always good for soft-serve ice cream. Everyone is trying to make it. Some do, while most fail spectacularly. It’s the city of dreams, and his came true.

He has a home, friends, the love of his life, inspiration, and time enough to make use of it.

Maybe he’ll keep wishing for this feeling back the rest of his life, to be wrapped around Betty, warm and content, the sand supportive and giving under their shoulder blades as they chat about how this summer would’ve been a Coming of Age tale.

“Speaking of coming…”

Instead of rolling her eyes at his terrible, punny segue, her eyes widen and she sits up. “Jug, no, you don’t have to. I’m scared of getting sand in…places.”

“I have a workaround for that.”

She likes that. Loves it, in fact.

Eventually, they pack up their beach gear and haul back to his bicycle, where Betty daintily perches on his handlebars, hair in a loose, wet bun so her ponytail doesn’t whip him in the face. The air stings, the atmosphere practically throbbing with heat, but Betty thrives in the breeze, his angel and muse tilting her head back, letting the world wash over her in a moment of unreality so pure that Jughead pedals even more furiously to keep it going.

God, if only they were eighteen. If only Polly wasn’t off the grid and FP never became the Serpent King. If only his books were worthy of publishing contracts. Every setback can be made into great material, or so Betty tries to spin it. Maybe it can. But he’d rather have this: her smile over a sun-kissed shoulder, wind snaking up his tank top, the soft glow of today stamped on his heart forever, so he memorializes it

~~~

“So you and Jughead are going back together, then?” Brad asks, just the slightest hint of needling underneath.

“Yes, that’s the plan.”

“You two are so cute!” Sam chirps right through the awkward tension, folding more poster board. “I expect you to start posting social media again once you get back so I can keep up with our favorite summer romance.”

“I’ll try to convince him.” Betty smiles, not sure if Jughead will ever really be one to genuinely smile for photos, especially if her mother is behind the camera. Maybe he’d be less uncomfortable if Kevin or Archie took the photo? There were always a million factors to consider, ones they’ll have to test in person. It’s not like she doesn’t love his silly or sarcastic faces in their selfies, but his bright smile is her favorite. His affection makes her insides melt like chocolate the moment it comes into contact with a toasty marshmallow.

Every night, she gets that smile. Hopefully, it won’t fade back into a scowl the moment they set foot back in Riverdale. While she’s fully prepared to emotionally support him through his father’s trial, she also needed a plan with actual steps to follow, so tonight she’s giving him a surprise present to help cushion his worries about one thing, at least. No one has to know that she got a signed special edition as part of her internship. It can be for Jughead and his funds, instead. The memory of meeting her idol and making her boyfriend smile is enough to keep her afloat for the rest of the fall, if not forever. There will be other memories for them to build on. Who knows? Maybe one day they’ll be selling signed copies of _his_ books at a publishing event and she can actually sit beside him instead of checking people in and repeating the same information for hours on end.

Once she’s close to finishing her closing duties, she sneaks her phone out and texts Jughead, who immediately responds he’s already out front to walk her home, just one of the million thoughtful things he does as her boyfriend.

Sucking in a deep breath, Betty holds the signed book to her stomach and steps out of the venue, feet and cheeks aching from standing and smiling all day.

After all these weeks, there’s still a flutter of excitement in her chest when she sees him leaning against the pillar outside of the venue, suspenders hanging by his side as he broods over something on his cellphone screen. He’s here for her. Again. Still. Maybe even always.

“Jug!” she calls, ignoring the throbbing protest of her arches as she hurries down the stairs.

“Hey,” He straightens, eyebrows raising as he opens his arms to envelop her in a hug, lifting her off the ground without crushing the book. “How was it?”

“Insane. Also, great.”

His gaze momentarily slides to the doors behind them as he drops her back to the ground. “Did the gang want to go out after?”

“No, we’re doing something after our final evaluations tomorrow, but right now I want to go home with you and sleep.”

“Sleep? You’re sure?” he teases, bumping their pelvises together in a way that makes her knees wobble. They’ve talked about officially or… _thoroughly_ having sex before they leave. It’s not a necessity, but a definite possibility. It’s certainly more appealing than the possibility of someone interrupting them in Riverdale. In their own apartment, they can take their time–be loud, or kinky, or sweet, or… anything.

Heat floods her cheeks at the idea and she shakes her head. “It’s been a thirteen-hour day. Unless you’re fine with me laying there…”

“Let me think about it. Oof!” He grunts, shooting her a wry grin after she sharply nudges his side. “Come on, Betts. Let’s get you a nice, refreshing shower, and then I’ll tuck you in.”

“That sounds heavenly.” She wraps her arm around his waist and tells him about her day in tangents that border on rambling, but his eyes crinkle around the edges like she’s cute instead of exhausting. He doesn’t even flinch when he finds the small of her back sticky with sweat. That’s love, she thinks, beyond familiarity.

“You want me to take your book or put it in your bag?”

Biting her lip, she holds it up. “Actually, you can have it.”

“Beloved,” he reads with fondness in his voice and squeezes her shoulder. “I thought we were sharing your copy.”

“This one is a special edition,” she says softly, carefully looking up at him from under her lashes. “It’s signed. It’s… a gift.”

“For me?”

“For you and your unexpected situation, however you choose to use it. The internship didn’t pay much, but this book–“

“Betty, no.” He pushes it into her hands, his mouth set in a firm line. “You love her.”

“I love you, Jughead, more than anything or anyone,” she insists, stroking his cheek and lowering the book to her side, “and the stuff going on in Riverdale doesn’t change that. I’m here to support you in any way I can.”

His gaze darts to the side as he gently pries her fingers away. He threads them through his own, his thumb brushing across her knuckles. “That shouldn’t include peddling your valuables. Just being with you is a miracle in and of itself. I don’t want to put you out any more than I already have.”

“Put me out? Jughead, you’ve opened me up!” At his bewildered expression, she tries to explain, “Back in Riverdale, it felt like people always had these strict expectations of who I was supposed to be. The less I identified with it, the more guarded I was because I didn’t want to disappoint anybody. But you came and you didn’t expect anything. You just wanted to see me, to be with me, and you let me be whoever I was and wanted to be. You loved me. That’s worth… everything.”

“Everything, huh?” he muses wryly, massaging her fingers between his own. “You and me… yeah. I’d say that’s priceless.”

~~~

Jughead rolls his clothes as compact as his guts feel so he can stuff them into his backpack along with the few extras he’d acquired during their stay. It feels strange, knowing he’s going back to a place that’s supposed to be home when he’s already made one here.

It’s not just because his dad is still being held - that can’t be helped. It’s not that Jelly and Gladys are gone. It’s a sense of finality - that this is the last chance he has of being happy. They could stay. They could run. They could just be together without the threat of being kidnapped or barged in on or torn apart by a town that’s always seen him as a target and her as a trophy.

He just...he really loves Betty. He loves this freedom they have and he doesn’t want it to go away once they’re burdened with everything that’s happened with his dad.

The Andrews have generously taken him in and helped him with the plane ticket to Riverdale. He has some cash saved up from his summer jobs and they haven’t sold the Toni Morrison book (he does consider it _theirs_ ) so maybe he can pay the Andrews back sooner, rather than later. Betty and he had looked into cashing in her original plane ticket and taking the train for a longer little adventure - just the two of them in a cabin, but the price was almost the same for ten times the commute time.

He just wants to be safe–he wants a stable place where he can be with Betty. Having a home feels like too much to ask for, and yet his best friends keep offering him one.

“You okay?” Betty touches his wrist, eyes big and wide in gentle concern.

It’s been a hard, but wonderful summer. Mostly incredible because of Betty - although he thinks it did both of them good to grow outside of the watchful eye of Riverdale. No one in LA knew he lived in a trailer park and went to juvie. Everyone who saw them holding hands just registered two teens in love.

That’s what they are: in love.

He swallows against thick emotion–gratitude, awe, slight terror. “I will be, as long as you’re with me.”

She’s all smiles, leaning up for a kiss. “I will be.”

He takes Betty’s hand and tries to ignore the lurching feeling of nausea as the plane sets in motion. A swoosh of altitude jiggles the bile in his throat and Betty tightens her grip. The windows blur with buildings and he wishes he could see the beach again. Every second they move closer to Riverdale tugs the knots in his gut a little tighter.

“Do you think we could come back?” He exhales, wondering if it’s his breath or toxic fumes fogging up the window.

“To California?” Betty looks out the window like she needs to be reminded where they just came from. “I’m sure we could. There are other internships, college visits, vacations–”

“I meant to live.” He offers her a weak, wobbly smile, trying not to think about whether they’d be on their honeymoon or settling into an apartment again. As a Jones, he knows he’s not likely to have enough money to travel at will.

“We could look into it. Maybe. Yeah.” Her gaze drifts to their linked hands, a soft smile gracing her lips as her thumb skims his ring finger, sending vibrations down through his gut.

“Pinky swear?” he offers, chest tight with anticipation.

“Pinky swear.” With a simple loop, he feels his insides untwist, his mind clearing of some of the uncertainty of the future. He seals it with a kiss to her delicate hands, watching the way her cheeks color, her wavy, long hair hiding the tips of her ears for a little while longer. “It’ll be strange getting used to Riverdale’s weather again.”

“You mean snow one second, heatwave the next?”

“Why did our parents want to live there?”

Beanie secure, Jughead rolls his neck against the seat rest and considers it, especially since his mother bailed. What drew them to that place instead of seeking out another town? Love? Familiarity?

“It does have a hell of a diner.”

~~~

As much as Betty wants to hold Jughead’s hand, she’s aware that this isn’t the time or place, and that in itself is enough to make her palms itch. The car ride home is so awkward that she’s torn between laughing and crying amidst her mother’s interrogation, settling for meaningful looks with Jughead when Alice is focused on the road, instead.

“Where’s Polly?” Betty asks, deflecting to her sister every time her mother gets too personal or tries to take a dig at Jughead. Hopefully, in time, she can convince her mom to let Jughead stay with them. Betty’s bedroom at home is roughly the same size as their apartment in California and she’s willing to stay in Polly’s room or on the living room floor if it means he can stay.

Finally, they arrive home, Fred Andrews already on the porch with Vegas at his side and a coffee mug in hand. “Welcome back!”

Jughead chuckles in the back of his throat, biting back a no-doubt sarcastic comment about the circumstances, and shoulders his bag, looking to Betty for guidance.

A thousand questions bubble up in her mind and she shoves them all aside to plant her hands on either side of his face and bid him goodbye with a quick but firm kiss. “See you soon,” she promises, trying not to get emotional over the fact they won’t be crawling into bed together for the first time in weeks.

He looks a little dizzy and hikes his pack higher on his shoulders. “Until tonight.”

His pack wobbles with the weight of the world, but he straightens, strong enough to carry it as he makes his way into his new for-now home, her heart swelling with love and anxiety. The last time she left, her beloved sister had disappeared off the map. Even though it was highly unlikely that would happen with Jughead, she still worries about him. What if Clifford is able to arrange something against Jug and FP from prison? What if Jughead gets overwhelmed and takes off or puts his guard up without the necessity of communicating in tight quarters? What if he stops loving her once he has his regular support system in place?

Briefly squeezing her closed fists, Betty raises her chin, sniffs, and grabs her bags. Jughead is her best friend and she wants what’s best for him. Hopefully, she can be worthy of being a part of that. The first step is getting herself together and staying strong.

Vaguely processing her mother’s condescension, Betty heads up to her room. The photos on her dresser seem all wrong now. They’re mostly of Kevin, Archie, and Caramel, with a few of her family sprinkled in for good measure. Maybe tonight, when she meets up with Kevin, they can go to get more developed.

Her mother hands her a wrinkled white paper bag.

“What’s this?” For a moment, she forgets herself in curiosity. A pregnancy test falls out onto her bed. “Oh my god! _Mom!_ ”

“Even if you swear that hoodlum didn’t defile you in California, I need confirmation for my peace of mind.”

Unsurprisingly, no amount of outrage or indignation saves Betty from peeing on the stick. Her mother thoughtfully watches her expression the whole painful time they wait for the lines to appear. Betty nearly has a nervous breakdown in the interim. Of course she’s not pregnant. Her and Jughead have been beyond careful. But a tiny part of her wonders _what if_?

Alice visibly relaxes at the results but looks years older when she smiles at her daughter. “Good. Let’s keep it that way.”

Betty’s nails press against her palms but she refuses to dig in, smiling back tightly with a practiced “perfect daughter” expression. After living with Jughead for weeks on end, they know how to live their lives in a responsible manner. A few more years under the same roof as Alice might drive her to recklessness. Then again, Betty did give her boyfriend a blowjob on the beach. Her growing confidence might loosen the shackles of being a Cooper.

Maybe she’ll be a Jones, someday. A thoughtful rebel, a writer. A passionate player who lights the world on fire through the lens of storytelling–of _feeling_.

Putting her hair up, she looks over her shoulder to the Andrews’s house, hoping for a glimpse of Jughead in Archie’s bedroom. When she doesn’t spot the familiar beanie, she sighs, then looks at her bag. If she doesn’t unpack, her mother will investigate even more invasively. Missing her and Jughead’s old apartment, she pops the window open for some semblance of fresh air, longing to sprinkle salt in the air, knowing it would only render the garden under her window useless. Although she can smell her sunscreen-addled skin instead, she wishes she could wrap herself in Jughead, feel his heartbeat against her ear. In need of a distraction, she puts on music. The Beach Boys. Just the nostalgic bolster she needs. As she bounces through the room, putting away her things, she sings along, giggling when she realizes Jughead will probably listen to Incubus when unpacking, instead.

And she loves that about him.

As they settle into their new routine, there will be new things to learn to love about him, totally different memories to make, and maybe that in itself is reason enough to be excited about these changes instead of apprehensive. They have their whole lives ahead of them.

 _Don’t worry, baby,_ the Beach Boys croon, _everything will be alright._

~~~

Archie’s glistening like some All-American football god by the time he gets back. In California, Jughead saw a lot of skin, but it always made sense considering the weather and obscene amounts of sunscreen. Would Archie have liked California? Would he have fallen in love with Betty and finally seen how “perfect” she could be?

“Hey, man,” Archie says, blinking away some sweat, and Jughead shoves another bagel pizza in his mouth and nods in lieu of answering. “I’m going to clean up and then we can talk, yeah?”

Shrugging, Jughead scrolls through his phone for his new schedule at the Twilight. It’s not like he can hide from his foster family and former best friend. They’re sharing a room. Although the projection booth made a great place to write and avoid the world, Jughead will almost miss the way people sat up in excitement whenever his bike and its cooler full of goodies swiveled by, that they had a hunger for what he had to offer.

When he goes upstairs, Archie is still shirtless, but freshly clean. The following conversation is predictably Archie–embarrassed apologies, lots of puppy dog looks with his chin tilted down, eyebrows raised, but the one thing they skillfully avoid talking about is Betty. He’s not sure if there’s anything to say about it. Archie’s certainly not getting an apology. Jughead _loves_ Betty. He needed her and she loves him back and as far as he’s concerned, that’s all Archie needs to know about that. There’s still a niggling urge to defend himself, but he smothers it under the stark reminder that everyone should be more focused on his Dad’s involvement with Jason Blossom than Betty’s with her best friends. Besides, Archie still hasn’t explained whatever his own shit is. As their conversation meanders into slightly more normal catching up, he hears something outside and looks out the window with the knowledge it could be Cheryl Blossom coming to shoot him through the heart in a fit of chaotic vengeance. Instead, he gets an eyeful of Betty prancing through her room. His heart surges into overdrive.

That’s _his_ girl. This is the first time he’s been able to see her through this lens of the “girl next door” since they got together and the moment he realizes she’s listening to one of “their” songs he’s so fucking head over heels with her all over again that he’s reduced to a pining teenager longing for her presence.

Swallowing, he glances at Archie, who seems intent on pretending he didn’t see anything, which is just as well.

“Want to hear this new song I wrote?”

“Depends. Do you want to listen to me read my manuscript?”

Archie’s eyes go wide in panic. Savoring the moment, Jughead can’t help but crack a smile. As both of them burst into laughter, he feels a flicker of hope that his new situation in Riverdale won’t be so bad, after all.

~~~

Stirring the strawberry milkshake, Betty’s trying to stay focused on Kevin’s stories and inquiries instead of daydreaming about how she’d hoped she would get to have her first Pop’s excursion since the internship with Jughead, but she _had_ promised Kevin before she left, and who was she to break a promise?

“Ah, look who just walked in,” Kevin teases, straightening in his side of the booth.

Dreading the idea of coming face to face with Cheryl, Betty is slow to turn to look, but her whole body goes gooey when she sees Archie and Jughead side by side, Jughead clapping their best friend on their shoulder, instinctively swiveling when he feels her gaze. Biting down her smile, she whips around to look at Kevin, who nods, always happy to have cute boys in his midst, and hurriedly invites them with a, “Would you boys like to join us?”

Jughead slips his arm around her shoulders, one knee up on the bench seat. “Only if you’re treating.” His warmth floods her with energy. She suppresses a giggle as he steals her strawberry, leaving her favorite part–the whipped cream–untouched.

“I did not see this coming,” Kevin muses, watching them with the same investment and curiosity as he does reality TV, then turns to Archie. “What do you think?”

“Me? I, uh, I think it’s great! Burgers, anybody?”

“And onion rings,” Jughead answers, then pauses, narrowing his gaze on Betty as Archie slips out of the booth to head towards the counter. “Um, is that okay?”

“Are you asking me if it’s okay to eat?” She laughs.

“No, I mean,” he shifts, glancing at Kevin before wobbling his head back and forth, his breath hitting her cheek, “Onion rings?”

His insinuation seeps out with the same smoothness as an ice cream machine. “Yes, Juggie. You can always brush your teeth.” She goes in to kiss his lips and ends up catching his cheek as he ducks his head with a smile, tugging his beanie.

“Not in front of the milkshakes, Betty!”

She gets the feeling he means “Not in front of Kevin and Archie”, but he’s so damn cute she can’t help sneaking another peck to his cheek before giggling with Kevin, who’s looking at them like Jughead’s a rabbit she pulled out of a hat instead of the great guy they’ve known almost all of their lives.

As Archie rejoins them with a steaming pile of onion rings, she places a hand on Jughead’s knee so she can be linked to him without impeding his meal and asks their bestie about the rumor Kevin heard about Varsity. Although it’s no beach, the vinyl of their Pop’s booth, the smell of fried foods, and the chatter of her friends are all warm and comforting in their own ways. Mouth full, Jughead catches her eye and subtly winks. This could be their new normal, she thinks happily–at least until they find a place of their own again.

~~~

Trading a warm bed with Betty for an air mattress on Archie’s floor feels like taking a step backward, but Jughead supposes that moving in with Betty right away did skip a few beats. By the end of a few weeks, he was ready to run away with her, which would probably not work out in their favor in the long run–and he _is_ in it for the long haul, despite the odds of high school sweetheart-dom not necessarily being in their favor. Most things aren’t in his favor, but he’s determined not to get sucked into the oblivion of addiction and bullshit like his ancestors. Who knows? His dad might actually pull himself out of it. God, he hopes he pulls himself out of it.

School might be awkward, considering his dad’s state of affairs, but he’s used to being singled out as a weirdo. What’s one more unfortunate incident? It’s just… he’d gotten used to having a clean slate in California. He’d gotten used to being happy.

Sighing, he rolls over, trying to get comfortable. Archie’s already in full-on starfish mode, his arm and leg hanging off the bed. Cuddling up close to Betty every night spoiled Jughead into having the equivalent of a warm body pillow and he feels her absence like a missing limb.

Maybe memes can distract him.

After a while of swiping through the vaguely amusing depths of the internet, his notification lights up with a text from Betty, a simple, “ _Miss you xo_ ” with a kissy face.Without bothering to tamper down his impulses, he sneaks out of the house and grabs the ladder from the garage, delicately placing it against her window before making the climb. She must’ve heard him getting set up because she opens the window with a big, radiant smile on her face, hair down in soft waves for bed like when they were in California, and the feeling of _home_ hits him in the gut.

“Hey, Juliet.” He knows he’s got a goofy expression on his face, posture melting for her while he hangs off the side of her house, but he doesn’t care.

“It’s good to see you, Romeo.” Her hands slip into his hair as she pulls him closer for a deep, devoted kiss. When that doesn’t feel like enough–because nothing ever will, as far as he’s concerned–he clambers inside and Betty wraps around him like that first day he saw her in front of the publishing house.

Relief seeps into his bones and he presses his face into her neck. By the time he looks up, he notices she’s pinned pictures of their summer together all over her mirror and put him in a frame with a heart around his face.

Whatever dreams he’ll have tonight couldn’t hold a candle to this– _happy, safe, and warm_ , and they’re not even in LA.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have many feelings. I hope yours are fluffy. Side note because I love talking about writing: I kept this title because that song was how Jughead was feeling before he went to California bc he felt homesick/sad/needed her and now they're each other's sense of home, their anchors, and waaaaaagh feelings. Happily ever after obviously.
> 
> [This](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jSc6ZsrJxdw) is what Jughead was hearing(ish) when Betty was dancing in her room. Does it make you feel the feels the way I do?

**Author's Note:**

> Many thanks to those who helped with this, especially my California cactus princess @thetaoofbetty/Smudge for her insights on West Coast living and making me listen to things like "Amber" by 3-1-1 on repeat bc I love her and bughead and fluffy vibes, my friends. Please for the love of sunshine leave some positivity below or on my Tumblr @lovedinapastllife or just pay it forward to peeps that make you happy, my dears.


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